


We’ll Make it Work

by musingsofatransboy



Series: We’ll Make it Work [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, As for the look you can imagine whichever you want, Character backgrounds are mixes of the movie and the musical, Davey is a lot of the musical version but trust me there’s movie, Davey is awkward as ever, F/M, Homophobia, Jack has a lot of movie version and a lot of musical, Jack is hella nervous about screwing things up okay, Katherine and Davey do their best to cheer Jack up when they can, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Polyamorous Character, This is my ‘version’ of the characters so, except Sarah... obviously, idk what else, im imagining the musical cast for most characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsofatransboy/pseuds/musingsofatransboy
Summary: Francis Sullivan — or better known as, Jack Kelly — found himself in quite the predicament. What was once harmless flirting, has turned into genuine feelings, for both the clever Katherine Plumber, and... new kid, Davey Jacobs. Already, Jack knows he’s in for it. You can’t just date two people, especially when one of them is another guy.Right?





	1. Vieilles Nouvelles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The streets were cold. His mind was racing. And that damn new kid — well, he sorta helps at the end.

The first thing Jack noticed, as he walked down the streets of Lower Manhattan, was just how god damn cold it was. It was July for chrissakes, yet the morning air was as biting as ever. The papers weren’t selling like usual. And it made sense, too — no one was even out to begin with. Everyone in their right minds was either at work, in a shop, or comfortably relaxing at home.  


Jack didn’t think that was very fair.  


Some people just got to lounge around, letting others deal with the harsh reality that was… well, reality. Kids were begging on the street for even half a cup of anything, shining shoes without having a pair of their own. They should be in school, Jack often thought. He missed those days himself. They weren’t long lasting, but he’d gone long enough to get through the first few grades. After that, and a series of unfortunate family events, he had to drop. And drop, he did.  


Dropped classes, dropped from poor to poorer. He was on the streets before he could even realise it, and his parents were not there with him. He didn’t tell the tragic tale of Francis Sullivan and his poor, dear parents, to anyone. Jack Kelly was the name, and he was determined as all hell to keep up a good reputation.  


He didn’t do… exactly that. Stealing food from stores whilst the owners weren’t looking, doing the same with shirts and socks off of clothes lines. Never for him, no. He brought it down to the Refuge, which is right where it landed him. He hated ever setting foot in that god awful place. Rats littered the floor, along with miscellaneous scraps and stains and grime. Kids were set three to a bunk more often than not, which was even less appealing when he realised that the beds really could’ve been more sturdy.  


The lot of the kids weren’t very nice, either. Jack couldn’t say he blamed them, either. He didn’t know why all of them were there. He didn’t quite care to ask, given that he didn’t want people asking him, either. He was blamed. Often. For every random thing that the kids could thin up; someone broke Snyder’s plate on accident? Jack did it. One of the beds cracked? Jack’s fault. A spilled drink, a black eye, an open window. The poor kid was always pegged as the miscreant who’d done it. And every time, Snyder believed them. Jack didn’t actually _think_ Snyder believed them half the time; the old man just wanted a reason to yell at him. It gave Jack a new light on life. He was more forward, after a while. He talked back, fought back for himself, and for the younger kids who couldn’t. Slowly but surely, Jack became their leader. Their fearless victor with dreams of going West, to Santa Fe — _“My folks is down there. They’s is gonna send for me when they get the money.”_ ‘Cowboy’ was what they referred to him as, and Jack began to feel a bit more accepted. Lots of kids at the Refuge had nicknames; you had Scraps, a scrawny kid who at the time couldn’t’ve been older than four, who Jack had been supplying most of the food to. Springer, who was as lively as you’d ever seen a starving, sick kid. Copper, who was awfully good with finding ‘lucky’ pennies on the streets, and for some reason, he hardly ever got in trouble.  


As much as Jack had grown fond of the kids in the Refuge, escaping was one of the best feelings there was. Good ol’ Teddy Roosevelt and his beautiful carriage. Thank God he wanted the votes, otherwise Jack wasn’t sure if he’d have ever gotten out.  


A chill ran down the young boy’s spine as he continued down the street, kicking at loose pages of yesterday’s paper that blew his way. He was lost in thought, and on a day like this, maybe that wasn’t the worst thing. He’d given up his popular spots for the day, anyways — goddamn Race and his incessant asking. He loved to help the other newsies, of course. It was just something he’d carried over from the Refuge. Sometimes, though, Jack just couldn’t recognise when it was hurting him.  


Footsteps. He heard footsteps, and they were coming towards him. Then, a voice.  


”Jack! Just sold my last paper!” 

_Davey._


	2. Nouveau Gamin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey Jacobs. The boy with the soft brown hair, the nice clothes, and the quiet power that Jack found intriguing.

David had joined the gang only days before. Apprehensive, smart, and _not_ a charity case. Jack had to admit, it was certainly unexpected when the boy blatantly tried ignoring his offered help. The rest of the newsies had had the same reaction. Even then, though, they were more concerned about getting their papers, and that was that.

  


While there was some brief.. awkward, slow beginnings to a friendship, David and Jack had gotten along just fine. There was one time that the taller boy asked Jack to go over to his own house, eat dinner or spend the night with he and his family. As much as he didn’t want to leave the gang, he’d obliged, and he couldn’t say he was complaining. It’d been a while since he’d gotten a proper meal into him.  


The Jacobs were nice. Jack remembered seeing the familiar face of Davey’s younger brother, Les, as he walked into the small apartment. But then, there was a new face. He learned soon enough that it was Davey’s twin sister, Sarah. He could most definitely see the resemblance. Sarah just looked a little older. She had this sort of mischievous light in her dark hazel eyes, and Jack almost felt that the two could conspire with one another, to come up with more ways to annoy Davey than he already could manage. Dinner was great, and even though the taller boy had offered many a time, Jack didn’t stay the night. He already felt bad that he’d gotten food, when most of the other boys could hardly afford a half decent sandwich with their money. A quick thanks to the family, an awkward goodbye to David, and out he went, leaving through the fire escape. The streets were just as cold then as they were now.  


“Did’ya now?” Jack asked as his friend approached, just the slightest bit short of breath. Sure enough, his satchel was empty. 

“There’s hardly anyone out here. How many papers have y’got still?” His voice held both curiosity and concern. No one liked having extra papers at the end of the day. 

“Ah… maybe, 20?” 

“And how many did you have to start?” 

“Fifty?”  


David nodded, tapping his foot some as he thought, then looked around. Jack found it comical; already, the new kid was trying to give _him_ pointers on how to sell his papers. Then again, at this rate, he welcomed the advice.  


“How about.. we go back to my spot? There was still a lot of people, since they usually head to work that way,” David suggested, his hands wrapped around the strap of his satchel as he nodded in the direction he came. The idea wasn’t half bad.  


“Y’mean the spot I gave you?” Jack asked. David narrowed his eyes before rolling them, a grin forming on the former’s face. “Alright, let's go then.”  


There was a decent walk back to the spot, given that apparently, Davey ran to find Jack — Jack decided he wouldn’t let him live that down, either — just to tell him that he’d finished. He wondered whether the boy had turned it into some competition between the two. If more people were out, Jack would’ve won no problem. Well, he hoped. David was getting better at the whole ‘lie-and-exaggerate’ thing, and Jack noticed that he’d begun to do it effortlessly, like he’d been doing it the whole time. It was impressive to see how quickly David adapted to the way of the streets.  


“Say, Davey, have y’seen Race? Or Crutchie? Or.. any of the others?” 

“I saw a few of ‘em down a bit more towards the square. Race took his spot near the harbour. Finch and Elmer went to the banks, Albert’s at the barber.. Romeo is… who knows where,” Jack waved his hands about, nodding a little. 

“Alright, kid, thanks for the full report.” His attention was drawn elsewhere, as a group of women walked down towards them. Jack fixed his hat, clearing his throat as they approached.  


“Mornin’ ladies. Interested in readin’ about the death defyin’ strikers over with the trolley? You heard about the fire, but this takes the cake! Fightin’ with the officers, somethin’ outta a book I tell ya!” He exclaimed, a few of them digging through their coin purses and handing him their change as he distributed the papers. “Thank you ma’am, thank _you_ ,” He rambled, tossing a few grins in here and there. He’d admit it. He flirted once in awhile to sell his papers. All in a day’s work, he figured. Once they departed, he turned to his friend, smirking.  


“Fourteen left,” He said confidently. David, on the other hand, genuinely laughed, patting Jack on the shoulder. 

“Yes, but who’s finished?” 

“That ain’t fair, Davey. You only bought twenty papes!” 

A brief silence fell over them as Jack’s grin widened. David knew he was right. “Shut up, let’s finish selling your papers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There he is.
> 
>  
> 
> _That fool._


	3. Mains Chaudes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Jack do what they do best — barter, joke, and whine. Well, Jack does most of that. David offers Jack a place for the night. Both of them seem to have eyes for one another.

The papers had been sold, and rather quickly once Jack returned to his usual selling spot. It was as if people were just waiting to see him hawking papers. The charming grin, the twinkle in his ocean eyes; he could captivate his audience easily. David, on the other hand, really had had enough of all the theatrics. Even if he’d taken to lying, no one put on a show quite like Jack. ‘Death defying’ trolley workers, ‘blazing infernos’, everything was exaggerated and frankly, people bought it. Literally. It was almost comical to the ‘new’ kid. Les hadn’t been out with them that day, given that the weather was promptly unforgiving, and his mother didn’t need him getting sick. No parent needed that when their kids were the ones who needed to work.  


“Are you coming back to my place tonight?” David asked, looking over at Jack as the boy counted his change. It was a minute before he replied.  


“Ah.. not sure. The boys is gettin’ awful curious.”  


“Well, you can just.. tell ‘em you’re busy helping me with something. Or.. that I’m going to help you learn. Like, school stuff and all that. You said you dropped out, right?”  


“Well— yeah. They know that’s stupid, though. I ain’t goin’ around complainin’ about not gettin’ through school. Guess it might work though,” Jack shrugged, looking up at Davey. The boy’s head was tilted some, and he seemed to be just waiting for Jack to give in and say ‘alright’. He was satisfied with the response, and after a brief rolling of the eyes, and a joking scoff, the two began to take the journey to the Jacobs’ house.  


It was just getting dark by the time they started walking, David’s hands going to his pockets. Jack glanced around the empty streets, save for the few stray dogs here and there, and kids who’d eventually meet the face of Snyder if they stayed out there any longer. He wished he could help them, too. He couldn’t, though. He had to come to terms with it. Sometimes when he was en route during work, he’d pass by the Refuge. As stupid of an idea as it was, he just tried to get a glimpse of it. Part of him hoped he’d see Scraps or one of the other boys bolting out the front doors in an attempt at escaping. The other part was busy hoping that no one saw him. He didn’t want to go back into the damn place. Apparently he zoned out, because not far into his thinking, he walked right into David, who laughed quietly.  


“What’re you doing? Thinking about Santa Fe or what?” He teased. “Yes I’ve heard all about it. Not just from you, either. Crutchie told me how you go on and on about going to New Mexico, ‘cause your folks are out there?” Oh, great, so he knew. Now Jack had to lie to him, too.  


“Ah, yeah. They got some grand ol’ offer for real cheap housing. They’s is gonna send for me when they get the money,” He nodded, reciting the lines he’d said so many times before.  


“It must be awful hard, being away from them.”  


“You could say that.”  


  


The two walked inside, Jack being greeted by the enthusiastic little boy that he’d grown fond of seeing. He treated Jack like some sort of celebrity, even on day one – “His name is Jack!” “Let the man think!” – and Jack’s personal favourite:  


“It’s Cowboy!” Les exclaimed, running right past his brother to hug Jack, who grinned playfully at David.  


“Thanks, Les,” David said flatly, but everyone knew he didn’t care. Having Jack around was always fun for Les, because time and time again, he’d tell tales of how he escaped the Refuge and Snyder’s hand, and how he knew Medda Larkin, and how he was friends with _the_ Teddy Roosevelt. It wasn’t long before the story-telling began, Sarah even listening in quietly, and playfully nudging David’s arm. She liked to poke fun at her brother, and Jack for that matter. David was worried that one of these days, he’d wake up to his bed reassembled, or his satchel decorated with who knows what. Dinner came along soon after, and then David asked the same old question.  


“Want to stay the night?” Jack thought the question was a little stupid. He was already on his way out the window to the fire escape as the tall brunet spoke. He looked over at him, and tried to speak up. However, Davey was insistent. He continued to explain that Jack could sleep on the couch downstairs, or that he could take his bed, and David would sleep on the couch. A plethora of options. He also made note of how windy it was getting, and that it was already darker than usual. The rambling just continued until Jack sighed and stepped away from the window.  


“Okay, fine, sheesh,” He nodded. “I’ll stay. Just for tonight. Say I passed out on your couch or somethin’ so the guys don’t get all nosy. Well, Albert will. He’s good at that.” The smile on David’s face was hardly noticeable in the dim light, but Jack saw it. He had a nice smile, he found. He had a nice face in general. His hair was always neat, but it never looked overdone. His eyes were warm, forgiving, but Jack could tell there was something else in them. Something that made him less of a ‘pushover’. It was a quiet power.  


“Great, you can sleep…” David started, walking past Jack to shut the window. He moved the boy out of the way, Jack noting that his hands were warm. Of course they’d be warm. He didn’t know why he focused on it. He snapped out of it as the window was locked, and the curtains drawn. “Um, my bed? Or the couch?” There wasn’t much of an argument, before Jack was fast asleep on the old couch downstairs. He wasn’t complaining, either. Anything was better than the rooftop when it was this cold. Even the Lodge House had a draft through it. At least inside, though, there were a few thin blankets. Jack had given those up for the others. That night, he slept peacefully.  


That night, he dreamed of David.  


  


Morning came slowly, dim, grey-ish yellow light creeping through the windows. Jack grunted, rolling onto his side as he did his best to avoid the glare of the sun. But, it wasn’t long before there was idle commotion. Mrs.Jacobs came down from her room to begin her work for the day; preparing breakfast, straightening up the kitchen, and checking to see if the weather was suitable for Les, too. David came down a few minutes later, Les and Sarah following suite. His bedhead was impressive, and he could only thank whoever was above that Jack was too busy counting sheep to notice anything that was going on. It didn’t stay like that for long. Sarah walked silently over to the couch, as if to gently shake his shoulder, and help him get ready. Instead, she lifted up Les, holding him over Jack so the younger boy could do the honours.  


“Jack! Y’gotta get up! We’ve got papers t’sell!” He said happily, a whine coming from the figure on the couch.  


“The bell ain’t even rung yet.. Go back t’sleep..” He replied through slurred and muffled words. Les huffed, getting down and stomping dutifully over to the kitchen, before grabbing David’s hand, dragging the teen over to the other. “Wake him up, Davey.”  


“Les, it’s–” He started before looking outside. They would have to leave soon. “Alright. Jack. Jackie, we have to start getting ready,” He said, his voice gentle as he shook his friends shoulder. A little too enthusiastically; David never really got the chance to mess with Jack. Another whine, a swat hand, and soon enough, Jack was sitting up with a scowl, and bedhead to match his friend’s. Though, David took a moment before Les got him to sort his hair out for the most part.  


He looked at Jack, who was still hardly awake. His eyes were droopy, and his eyebrows were knit together as he tried to comprehend why on earth they had to get up so early. His hair was entirely in disarray. It wasn’t often that people saw Jack before he was lively and well. Put together.  


Davey moved away from the couch after petting his friend’s head playfully, going and changing, and leaving Jack to do the same. (That didn’t take too long. All he needed to do was put his signature blue shirt back on, along with his vest and hat.) He came back downstairs, and there Jack was, ready as ever as he leaned against the railing.  


“Let’s get a move on, eh?” He clapped David on the shoulder, grabbing his satchel before thanking the family, walking out into the morning with a slight smile on his face. David’s smile had only grown as he followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a semi-slow burn fic. I think. That’s how it’s planned for now. I hope you enjoy.


	4. Yeux Froids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David is just as smart as everyone expects. A certain theatre brings a new face to the scene, and already, Jack is at his usual schemes. David is disappointed, but there’s something else about Jack that makes him curious.

Papers… papers… _more_ papers. It was after a few days work that David understood why Jack wanted to leave so badly. There was nothing that the city could give him. He knew Jack wasn’t in school. He knew that he wasn’t going to finish school, either. Jack was already seventeen, and he was stubborn. He wouldn’t do however many years he missed, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to get into college with hardly enough money to fill his pockets. David was only out of school for about a week, and already, he wanted to go back. He was a studious kid, just as the rest of the newsies imagined, and while school could be draining, he’d admit; he loved to learn. He learned how to speak two other languages by the time he was ten, though, it wasn’t much help around the house, or at work. It did give him more books to read. He wondered if Jack liked to read. He didn’t really _know_ what Jack liked, period. Was he a logical person? No, he couldn’t be. All those dreams of going West, and getting a big life in some small town. It would be hard to attain. He didn’t have the funds to do it, and David wasn’t sure he’d leave the boys so willingly. The only way he saw Jack leaving, was in the hands of Snyder and his goons, kicking and screaming the entire way.  


Papers were sold, and soon enough, a familiar face greeted the trio. “Aye, Jack! Davey! Les!” They heard, followed by running footsteps. Racetrack.  


“Hey, Race. Finish sellin’?” Jack asked, taking his cigar with a playful smirk as he snatched it back.  


“Yeah I finished. Y’really gotta take up Bottle Alley. Easy pickings, just like I always say. That, or the harbour,” He grinned, fixing his hat before returning the cigar to his mouth.  


“So I heard. What’re doin’ ‘ere then? Are you followin’ me?” He teased and prodded at the kid’s shoulders, who didn’t hesitate to return the play fighting. Les grinned and turned to David, nudging at his stomach and getting as close as he could to his chest, laughing all the while. 

“Look what you’ve done. Now he’s hittin’ me,” David huffed and shook his head. 

“Fight back then!” The other boys said in unison, Race grabbing David’s hat and Jack snorting. It was always fun to poke fun at David. He was just so uppity, sometimes. Jack figured it was just because he was raised in an actual household with _actual_ rules. That, or maybe he was just a Goody Two Shoes. Jack couldn’t tell, but whatever it was, pushing Davey’s buttons was a hell of a trip. After the boy retrieved his hat, the small gang stopped, counting their change and discussing what they should do next.  


“Now, we can pool our cash an’ go get some chow if y’want,” Jack said, looking between the rest. “Well.. I don’ knows about you two. You’s got your family t’feed,” He shrugged, starting to ask Racetrack, before noticing him looking awfully focused. “Hey, Racer, what’re you—” The boy waved his arm and shushed him, peering around the corner before his eyes widened.  


“Jack, we gotta go.” A laugh game from the brunet, before he shook his head some.  


“Yeah? An’ why’s that?”  


The smaller boy turned to face him, trying to usher them down the alley. _“Snyder.”_ The mere mention of the name had Jack’s humoured smile fading, and his head popping around the corner to see if it was true. Snyder stalked the sidewalk, reminding Jack of a bloodhound. David tried getting a glimpse, too, curious as to what the fuss was all about, and why suddenly, they had to leave. Jack grabbed his shoulders and tried pushing him back.  


“Hey— what’re you—”  


Jack put a finger to his mouth and nodded towards the back of the alley, before David tried again to move past him. “Davey, _Davey_ —” Jack’s attempts at blocking the kid were practically useless, and the more he tried, the more annoyed David got.  


“Jack, _stop—_ ”  


“Davey you can’t—” He tripped, stumbling out onto the sidewalk some. David grabbed his arm, stopping him before he could fall, but, that didn’t help too much. Snyder had spotted Jack, and his stone expression turned into a curdled grin.  


_“Kelly!”_  


Jack scrambled to his feet, ushering the rest of the gang down the alley with shouted commands. Snyder rounded the corner, and Jack could only thank God that the other was both out of shape, and that his goons weren’t very good at their job. Race looked at Jack nervously, one that was asking where to go. Jack moved to the front, and led them through as many back alleys and streets as he could manage. The pounding of footsteps and shouts could be heard from anywhere, and many kids darted to find a hiding spot. They didn’t want to run the risk of being taken away. Though, some of the younger ones couldn’t help but watch as _the_ Jack Kelly escaped Snyder’s hand once again, something they’d tell their friends of.  


The chase came to a screeching halt as David shouted to the rest that Snyder wasn’t on their tails. A ‘screeching halt’, as in, Jack nearly ran down a woman as he led his gang into his hideout. The woman shouted in surprise, and Jack ended up on the floor, having tripped over their feet in the scuffle. David would’ve laughed, but he was too busy trying to catch his breath. He didn’t have a reason to run.  


But, the look in Snyder’s eyes when he’d spotted Jack was something David would try his damnedest to forget. They were cold. Greedy. Ravenous, beady, and David nearly compared him to a rat. It was accurate, he felt. A scavenging rodent, looking for more kids to take away. He examined Les, the young kid looking almost excited, but a little winded. Of course. Racetrack was just as distressed as before. He’d avoided the Refuge a few times, but Jack knew the tale of the one time he’d gone in, and just exactly how he’d gotten his nickname. A runner, he was. Fast as can be. Snyder didn’t stand a chance going after him; he was practically as wanted as Jack, just a little less cocky in the face of danger.  


A quiet groan came from the mass that was Jack, picking himself up off of the floor and dusting himself off, looking at the still offender lady. He tossed her an easy grin, and a scowl formed on her face. Her doe eyes threw the look for a loop, though. Jack laughed softly, scratching the back of his neck.  


“I ah, I’m so sorry. Looks like I’m fallin’ for ya, Miss,” He hummed, David practically groaning on the spot. Typical.  


“Clever. Was that an original? Or was it just the repeated lines that all cheeky boys use?” She asked, Race huffing out a laugh after catching his breath.  


Jack put his hands up in mock surrender, “I think I’m pretty original. The name’s Jack Kelly,” He said, before practically bowing, the lady looking him up and down.  


“I’ve heard about you. The local thief, or are you more of a Robin Hood?” She asked, shaking her head to move her auburn bangs to the side some.  


“I ain’t sure, however the headlines picture me. But ah, you seem to have stolen something, too.”  


“And what would that be?”  


“My heart,” Jack said, rather dramatically, before clutching at his chest and pretending to fall back. The young lady rolled her eyes, raising an eyebrow.  


“Then I’ll gladly return it.” With that, she smoothed down her skirt, and retrieved a small notebook from seemingly nowhere, (Jack hadn’t been paying much attention), before walking into the theatre. Race thought the whole interaction was hysterical, full on howling with laughter now.  


“She told you, Jack!” He snorted, Jack walking over and flicking the kid in the forehead. With a huff, he moved and sat down in the nearest open spot, David finally speaking up.  


“Who’s that Snyder guy an’ why’s he chasing you around like some dog? And why do _I_ get dragged along?”  


“Ol’ Snyder. The Spider, we call him. He’s a warden at the Refuge, it’s like this jail for underage kids. More kids he brings in, the more money the city gives him. Problem is, all that money goes straight to his pockets. We don’t see nothin’ of it. Not in food, or clothes, nothin’,” Jack explained, earning a cocked head. 

“You said ‘we.’ Did you—”  


“Remember what I told you ‘bout my folks? I was younger when they left, an’ I had t’live on the streets, just like most of the other guys.” He nodded at Race, “It was fine an’ dandy, ‘fore I got caught sneakin’ food outta stores, an’ then bringing it to the Refuge. He took me then an’ there. And I was in there for a while. Then, good ol’ Teddy Roosevelt came by in golden carriage for a picture in the pape, I hopped in the back an’ off we road. Snyder couldn’t touch me,” He laughed some at the memory. “Since then he’s been on my tail. I consider it a compliment. Must be annoying trackin’ down the same few kids all the damn time,” He hummed, looking down at his hands before back at David. The boy was just trying to wrap his head around it all. A jail? Snyder sounded more like some novel villain than a person. He was about to talk, yet again, when a feminine voice sounded from below.  


She wore a burlesque outfit, adorned by floral front trim, sequins, everything and anything that could catch the light and the eye of the audience. Her hat was extravagant, and she brought a whole new vibe to the room. David couldn’t tell whether he to feel relaxed or not. “You up there! Shoo! No kids allowed in the theatre!” He couldn’t even form an apology. Jack was already looking down at the woman with a smile.  


“Not even me, Miss Medda?” He called, before leading the gang towards the stairs. The woman gasped and laughed happily, ordering Jack down to greet her. The two embraced, and soon enough introductions were passed. David tried his best to be polite, bowing some as he greeted her. Les seemed distracted. David tapped his shoulder and whispered to him.  


“What is the matter with you?”  


“Are you blind!? She got no clothes on, Davey!” David’s face went a light red, embarrassed by the younger boy.  


“That’s her costume!”  
Jack moved over to David, patting him on the shoulder as Medda informed him to move. The two women giggled at Les, finding his presence entertaining, before walking off to prepare for their act. David just hid his face, flustered still. Jack teased him for it, before Medda could have him feeling the same way. It wasn’t long before she brought up his artwork. Artwork? David was curious already. Okay, Jack was the artsy type. Go figure.  


A scenic landscape, handpainted by Jack, he learned, made its way onto the stage for Medda’s act. Les gasped in shock, going over with his brother to examine it up close. None of the boys could believe it, especially David.Who would’ve thought that the arrogant Jack Kelly was an artist?  
“Hey, calm down. It’s just a bunch of trees, I mean—” Jack started, shaking his head as David returned to his side, his hand on his shoulder, followed by Race.  


“You’re really good,” The smile on his face spread through his tone, Jack’s cheeks involuntarily flushing some. He wasn’t used to all the compliments on his work, given that he usually tried to keep it hidden.  


“Your friend here has got natural aptitude, I’m telling you,” Medda remarked, grinning proudly at Jack. David just couldn’t stop smiling, watching Jack ask for permission to camp out in the theatre. The taller brunet wondered what else Jack drew. Did he only do landscapes, or could he draw people? If so, who did he draw? No people came to mind right away, but then again, David felt he didn’t know all too much about Jack, still. He noticed him opening up more though. The boy returned to his group, smiling.  


“Not only do we have some safety from the Spider, we also got ourselves behind the scenes access to Medda’s show boys. Let’s find a seat,” Jack said with his usual enthusiasm, taking David to try and scope out the best spots for their group. Neither of them mentioned Jack pulling his friend’s sleeve as he led him.  


David didn’t mention seeing the girl from earlier, up in a private box. He wanted to spend the time with Jack. And his friend, of course. He hardly focused on the show. He could only ponder about who the mysterious Jack Kelly really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this being a bit late. It’s also rushed, I feel. I’m most likely gonna go in and edit it at some point. This was also a lot longer than my last few chapters but eh, that’s probably a good thing. Tomorrow I’ll be drained from tests, (I accidentally wrote tears. Those too), but I’ll do my best at writing something up!


	5. Cœur Confus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is only so much that the heart can figure out, and even then, it is often hard to judge. Jack is confused by many things, and many people. He expresses it the only way he knows how.

The group of boys stayed for a while longer, before slowly dispersing on their own accords. David, almost against his own will, brought Les back home for supper. Even Racetrack took note of the slight dismay that crossed David’s features upon leaving. Jack however, was busy, zoned out beyond compare. Race noticed a familiar figure, pointing out her private box to him, and hanging out until he was finished with his new endevour. Jack, being the person he was, made his way into the private box – with Medda’s permission, of course. The new presence startled the woman, who looked both offended and confused by his appearance.  


“You can’t be in here, this is a private box!” She shouted in a hushed voice, Jack smirking some as he leaned against the now closed door.  


“Your owner should close the door then. The name’s Jack Kelly. I’m ah, sorry about earlier miss,” He said, dipping his head some and peering at her. His smirk didn’t fade once. The woman rolled her eyes; 

“You told me, already. You should be more careful then. You had to’ve seen me.”  


“Matter o’ fact I didn’t. I was a little caught up.”  


She quirked an eyebrow, her lips slightly parted as if in disbelief as she looked at him. He wasn’t lying, but she didn’t know that. With a sigh she turned back to her notepad, Jack moving a few steps closer.  


“What’s that?”  


“I’m writing an article. For the Sun,” She announced, Jack gasping with fake shock. 

“I work for the World!”  


“Lovely, someone out there cares. Go find them, I’m busy,” She said with ease, scribbling down a few more notes. Reviewing the show was... not, her most ideal idea of a job. But, she had to start somewhere, and being one of the first and few female reporters had to mean _something._ Katherine took pride in her work, and was not about to let some charming ragamuffin distract her. Even if he already had. She swatted him away when she noticed he hadn’t left, like some cat. “Do you mind?”  


“Not particularly, you’re quiet an’ the view’s nicer up here,” Jack hummed, “Aye, what’s your name anyways?”  


“Katherine. Plumber.”  


“Ain’t you sure?” After a winded explanation of her not using her real name, instead using an alias, Jack nodded, thinking of his own. It hit him that he had nicknames for a fake name. Huh. Cowboy, Jack Kelly.. Francis Sullivan. He furrowed his brow barely as he thought about it, Katherine noticing but continuing to work. At least he was quiet. Jack opted to take a seat in her box, earning a sigh, but otherwise, nothing.  


His eyes wandered over to her profile. Her features were soft, no sharp edges or harsh lines. Her hair hung in neat curls over her shoulders, and Jack couldn’t look away. Her eyebrows were knit together in utmost concentration as she looked between her notepad and the stage below, filling page after page with notes. He rummaged through his satchel, finding a few loose pages from some day old papers, and smiling. _Perfect._ A moment longer, and he found a worn down stick of charcoal, the substance staining his fingers already. One more glance to Katherine, and ‘pencil’ met paper.  


Soft strokes of charcoal against paper, the boy no longer making comments of any sort as he hurriedly sketched the girl— it was always daunting working with a live model. At least, one that was awake. Crude sketches of the boys sleeping in the Refuge bunks were easy. They slept like logs. He noticed her moving towards him, hiding the paper and shushing her with the excuse that there was a show. He grinned some as she tried to get around his remark, and sat back in her seat with a shaking of her head. The portrait was practically finished. Jack didn’t want to keep it, really. Then the guys would be all over his back trying to get at it, and he might lose it. So, he pocketed his ‘pencil’, and set the drawing on his seat, descending down the stairs with a click of his tongue and the tip of his hat.  


Jack returned to Racetrack, who upon his arrival, faked a rather dramatic yawn. “Y’know kid, with skills like that, you should get yourself on the stage. Bet they pay actors a whole lotta money,” He teased, flicking his shoulder. Race laughed and nodded.  


“Aye, maybe I will, an’ then when I’m up on the screen you can say ya knew me when.”  


“Alright, alright, I’ll have to do that. Remind me when y’get famous or else I’ll forget,” Jack pointed out, saying his goodbyes to Medda before leading Race out the back door. “Snyder wouldn’t wait for me. He gets too impatient,” He commented, Race calming some at that as they walked down the darkened streets.  


“Say, where y’been the other two nights? You didn’t come back. We thought he got a hold a you,” Race referred to Snyder, placing his cigar in his mouth as he put his hands in his pockets.  


“Oh, it ain’t nothin’. Davey needed some help gettin’ Les home one night, an’ the other he practically dragged me by the ear sayin’ he was gonna teach me about some book he was readin’ in school before they left.” Clearly, lying came easily to Jack, he had ‘natural aptitude’ for that. Race looked convinced, nodding and kicking at a loose rock. 

“Is his place nice?” 

“I mean it’s nicer than the Lodge House if that’s what you’re askin’, but it ain’t nothin’ fancy. He ain’t rich, Racer,”  


“Well I ain’t stupid, Jack, otherwise he wouldn’t be sellin’ papes with his baby brother,” He pointed out, Jack nodding. He had a point. The two were quiet a while longer, but both seemed to notice a tension between them. Jack was hiding something, but _he_ didn't even know what it was. He was confused as the rest.  


“Hey. Let’s see how well your name holds up, yeah? Race ya home?” Jack asked, grinning as he took off his hat and stuff it into his satchel. The offer lit Race’s eyes up, as well as his smile.  


“‘Course, but you can’t ride no fancy horses, _Cowboy._ ”  


“Oh, you’s on,” Jack said, the boys stopping at a nearby corner, before Jack shouted ‘Go!’ Off like a dart they went, neck and neck for a while. As expected, Race ended up leagues ahead of Jack, leaving him in the dust as he sprinted the familiar streets, weaving through any remaining crowds with Jack struggling to keep up. They reached the door. Between heavy breaths, they spat in their palms and shook hands.  


“Damn— alright kid, you… you hold up,” Jack praised, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Race just let out a small laugh and pat him on the back.  


“Thanks, Cowboy. You better.. better practice, you’s is gettin’ slow,” He teased, and moved inside, plopping down on the torn up couch and sprawling across Albert. The redhead looked defeated already, shaking his head and making no effort to move Race.  


Oh, the comforting ruin that was the Lodge House. Alright, it wasn’t the worst — it was infinitely better than the Refuge. They didn’t all get beds, no, but at least they didn’t mind sharing their space. Jack had a room of his own, technically. He’d given up the bed to Racetrack, Albert, and Elmer, but they knew to keep out of his art supplies. He had his papers and his pencils and paints galore. Old sketches lay discarded under the bed, never seeing the light again. His room was one of the neatest, actually. The rooms that held upwards of five boys had a proportional mess. Not to say _all_ of them were at fault, but Romeo and Finch.. well. Jack felt bad for their roommates.  


The walls were sturdy enough to keep (most of) the elements out. Rain, if hard enough, seeped through the roof, snow made the interior cold. The summers were brutal, too. It felt like the place was on fire somedays, and opening the windows only helped so much. No one complained, though. They had a home, with their family. There was nothing wrong with that. They kept each other safe, and that was what was important.  


A noticeable ‘thud’ sounded through the room. Jack looked over; Albert was grinning smugly, and Race was picking himself off the floor.  


“Race, your flirtin’ is gonna get you in trouble,” He teased, Race glaring and fixing his shirt, before pulling down his suspenders.  


“I don’t think you’s is one to talk, Jack, remember the girl?” He asked, a smirk of his own forming. That little—  


“Yeah, I remember plenty. What of it?” He stated, grabbing his satchel and bringing everything up to the roof. He stopped in his room on the way up, seeing Crutchie searching for something in his broken wardrobe.  


“Crutchie! How y’doin’? How’s the leg?” 

The smaller boy practically jumped a foot in the air, turning to face Jack. “Jack! Y’can’t do that t’me,” He sighed, “Fine, t’answer your first question. And ah.. the other. I ain’t been walkin’ so good lately. I’m sure it ain’t nothin’,” He shrugged, relaxing some and smiling, before tilting his head.  


“Say.. where y’been? The penthouse is awful lonely without ya,” He asked, in reference to the pair’s sleeping arrangements. Jack shook his head.  


“I was at Davey’s. I helped him bring Les home one night, an’ he wouldn’t let me leave ‘cause it was too late or somethin’. Then, he insisted that he read me this book so’s I can learn or whatever. Says it’s one o’ his favourites,” He shrugged, pointing towards the roof. “Y’gonna join me t’night? Or am I gonna have t’go solo?” He asked, smiling some. Crutchie was good company, truly. He brought a smile to everyone’s face no matter what. Jack knew it was hard for him, his leg. God forbid something happened and they got caught by Snyder or his goons. Crutchie would be the first to go. Jack made sure to not mention the close encounter from earlier.  


“I was just about t’go on up. I was just lookin’ for some blankets. ‘S been a lot colder out these days,” Crutchie said, a thin wool blanket in hand. Jack nodded, shutting the wardrobe and helping Crutchie get to roof. It was Jack’s idea in the first place, to sleep on the roof. The stars were easy to see, and he didn’t have to worry about hearing a bunch of other kids snoring their heads off during the night. Plus, some nights he just couldn’t sleep. He had a reputation amongst the boys — it was infinitely better to deal with a nightmare in the presence of one than it was two or more.  


The boys settled in their usual spot, Jack reaching under a stack of crates and pulling out some plain paper, before grabbing his charcoal from earlier, scribbling whatever game to mind. Crutchie started up at the sky as he got himself adjusted.  


“Hey, Jack?”  


“Yeah, Crutch?”  


“Glad to have y’back.”  


Said by anyone else, the statement would be returned with a simple ‘shut up’, as Jack rolled his eyes and shook his head. But this was Crutchie — he was the closest he had to a brother, amongst all the newsies. Jack turned to face him, smiling.  


“Thanks, kid,” He hummed. Crutchie could be seen nodding, a smile on his own face, before he fell fast asleep, leaving Jack to the papers and his mind.  


Oh, what an adventure that was.  


Jack’s fingers twiddled with the charcoal, scanning the paper in his hand before he crumpled it up and tossed it aside, grabbing a new one. He didn’t know what to draw. He couldn’t even focus on the task at hand. His brain was saying a million things at once: _Davey, Katherine, Davey, Katherine—_ Jack was ultimately confused.  


He could understand Katherine, maybe. She was a pretty girl, smart as hell, and clever beyond compare. She was an interesting character, but he hardly even knew her. But, _Davey?_ Why him? The kid just liked to talk a lot. He was smart, too. Jack was almost jealous at how long he’d been in school. Almost. David was strong, and not just physically, (because Jack thought that Les was probably stronger than him), but mentally. He had fortitude. There was silent power in his dark eyes, and Jack was… captivated, almost. Interested beyond compare.  


His mind was almost as confused as his heart.  


What was once meant to be a sketch, turned into lines and small phrases, slowly being linked together into some sappy poem:  


_’Worlds away, but all the same._  
_Mountain peaks and ocean waves._  
_They meet, time and time again._  
_The rocks break down, white grains of sand._  
_A fire burns, hot and bright._  
_The mountain and flame, a welcome sight._  
_The ocean meets them both once more,_  
_As flame, wave, rock do touch the shore.’_

__

__

____

Jack knew he’d have to keep it hidden. It was just.. dumb. That was all. He didn’t have to hide it. It wasn’t an outright confession of whatever feelings there were in him. But.. Jack knew what it was. Just looking at the paper had his heart beating faster, and his cheeks going red as he thought about the two. The _two._ The notion had his head spinning rapidly. He’d had crushes on plenty of girls before, but.. nothing like this. They didn’t mean anything. Jack knew this was different.  


Then, of course, Davey was in the mix. Was he? Jack really couldn’t tell. With a shaky hand, he picked up his charcoal, and yet another sheet of stained paper.  


Smooth lines, gentle curves. Slowly but surely, it began to turn into a familiar face. Jack didn’t know how long he’d been working for. When he went to sleep, though, he knew he had only to add one more detail to the figure.  


The hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I took a stab at writing poetry. If you want, comment what you think the message of the poem is, what means what, etc. Also, who did Jack draw?


	6. Couleurs Frappantes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An increase in prices. Red faced teens yelling at those that look down on them. Jack finally gets the opportunity to see David’s strength. David tries to learn more of Jack’s weaknesses.

The morning bell. Crutchie was already up and moving, Jack groaning as he pulled himself up from his spot, and quickly stashing his artwork beneath the crates once more. It didn’t look like he’d noticed, and Jack was fine that. He hadn’t taken into account the possibility of weather, either. He was lucky it hadn’t rained.  


He got dressed, he and Crutchie shooting the breeze as he helped him inside and going into the rest of the rooms, yanking the blankets off the boys.  


“C’mon! Specs, Racer, Henry, Albert, Elmer! Get a move on! We got papes t’sell!” He shouted, hopping onto the beds and standing proudly above the others. “Ah… Henry! Go wake up Romeo’s room, please and thank you!” He directed, the boy groaning as he moved off his bed and moved out into the hallway. “C’mon Racer, I know you ain’t sleepin’,” He pointed at the boy, who glared at Jack some the moment he opened his eyes. None of them were ever ready for Jack’s early morning wake up routine. He wasn’t even a morning person himself, but every morning without fail, he’d parade around the Lodge House, waking them up. (They all agreed that the few days they hadn’t seen him in the morning were both wonderful and… oddly underwhelming.) He exited the room to finish getting ready, Race sitting up and doing the same. He rummaged in a small bedside table, pulling out a box of stolen Corona’s and sticking one between his teeth. Looking around, he made note that most of his room was still half-asleep, moving sluggishly around as they grabbed their hats and boots.  


“Hey, Albert, Elmer, Specs! You heard Jack, let’s get a move on,” He said and fixed his own hat, Albert being the first to hop over as he pulled on his shoe with a sigh. His balled fist returned to his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them.  


“I was havin’ the most beautiful dream, Race. My lips is still tinglin’.”  


“Ooh, a pretty girl?”  


“A leg of lamb, full course side of mashed potatoes,” Albert corrected as Racetrack shook his head. With one swift movement, he snatched the cigar from his friend’s mouth. A small argument broke out, Henry walking back in with a towel around his waist, and shaving cream covering his practically bare face. Specs looked up at that with a twisted smile, shaking his head.  


“Would’ya look at that? It’s bath time at the zoo!”  


“Hey! I thought I’d surprise my mother!”  


“If you can find her, I heard she’s workin’–” Albert commented, the rest of the boys looking at him with a raised eyebrow.  


“Who asked you?” They asked mostly in unison, the redhead putting his hands up and shrugging.  


“Papes ain’t selling like they used to y’know, got any ideas?” He asked and moved downstairs with the lot of them, Henry returning as they went. Race thought for a moment, before humming.  


“Bottle Alley. All the way down t’the harbour. Easy pickin’s my friend, guaranteed.”  


“If you want someone who can actually read ‘em, banks, barbershops. Honest,” Finch added with a smile as he hurried over, and soon enough, most of the boys in the vicinity started giving out ideas. Jack walked by, looking at them. “Hey, why’s he askin’ for good spots? I gave him one o’ my best!”  


“Yeah, but I think it’s ‘cause he’s sellin’ there that it ain’t,” Race teased and grinned, hurrying off as Albert tried running after him. The boys never learned — don’t try and catch Racetrack. He runs and he doesn’t stop. Jack watched the two with a shake of his head, clapping his hands together.  


“Alright boys! We got papes t’sell, an’ let’s hope the headline ain’t a snoozer like yesterday’s.” His voice was strong, and confident. He and the rest of the boys headed outside, walking straight for the circulation gates. The World was rather prominent in the news world, competing with some of the best in the business. Joseph Pulitzer was the man in charge, and there weren’t too many issues. Most of the time. Upon standing at the gates, boys crowding the bars trying to read the headline as it was put up, a silence fell over them all at once. Then, it turned to chaos.  


Shouts of angry teens filled the area, as did the scuffling of shoes and slamming of hands against the metal bars of the gate. _“They upped the prices!” “I can eat two days in a dime!” “The hell do they think they’s is doin’!?”_ The commotion didn’t cease in the slightest as Jack got to the front of the gate, Davey and Les joining the boys not too long after.  


“Hey. Hey! What’s goin’ on?” Jack asked over the shouts and curses, Crutchie hobbling over to him.  


“Look! They upped the price. Sixty cents for a hundred papes!”  


Jack looked over, waving his hands dismissively. “It’s gotta be a joke,” He said, walking towards Weisel’s distribution stands when they were called. Without a pause, he leaned against the wall, slamming fifty cents down on the counter and sliding it over to the man. “Funny joke, Weasel, I’ll take the usual.” Weisel laughed, pointing at the headline written clearly above them all.  


“It ain’t a joke, Cowboy. A hundred’ll cost you sixty.”  


“I ain’t payin’ no sixty... we’ll take our business to the Journal, or the Sun!” Jack said and retrieved his quarter, starting to walk off before Weisel corrected him, saying it was the same price there. More newsies returned from a few streets away, Specs included.  


“I’ll save you the trouble, it’s the same all around town,” Specs said, sighing and shaking his head. Jack looked at him, then turned and looked at the rest of the boys. David stood a few feet away, crouched down as he explained to Les what was going on. Jack frowned barely and shook his head, moving to sit on a nearby wagon. The others crowded around him, asking a million questions at a time. He tried shushing them, but they continued, asking what they were supposed to do, even saying they should just get their papers and go. Oh, the perks of being a leader. Les interrupted, breaking away from his older brother and running over.  


“Quiet! Give him some space! Let the man work it out!” He demanded, his young voice breaking once in a while with the effort of his volume. The older newsies scattered awkwardly away, muttering about the news. Pairs of eyes landed on Jack, who looked concentrated as ever as he stared off into the distance. Les cleared his throat, piping up. “Hey… Jack? Y’still thinkin’?” He asked, Race interrupting.  


“Sure is. Can’t you smell the smoke?” He teased, earning some laughs from the other boys. Leave it to him to lighten the mood. Jack looked pensive, frustrated before he stood up.  


“Hey, hey, c’mere! Here’s the deal. If we don’t sell papes, _no one_ sells papes. Nobody goes to that window ‘till the price goes back, y’hear?” More arguments, asking what they’d do about food, and their jobs. “Aye, it ain’t quittin’. We shut down this place, just like the workers at the trolleys. Then they’ll see we mean business.”  


“Like.. a strike?” David asked, furrowing his brow. Attention turned to him, and Jack looked over the crowd.  


“Well, you heard Davey everybody, we’re on strike!” He stated, the boy trying to interrupt before he shushed him. David continued, though.  


“Jack, you can’t just go on strike. You have to have a union to go on strike. And you need a lot for a union.. like, membership—”  


Jack raised an eyebrow, looking at his friend like he had two heads, before gesturing to the rest. “Who are they then?” David rolled his eyes.  


“Well— you need.. officers.”  


Crutchie spoke up, then, grinning as he pointed at the boy in blue. “I nominate Jack for president!” Jack smiled and turned to David again.  


“Look at that. I’m touched. Me, president. What else d’we need?” David stared at the boy, whose smile was teasing and whose eyes glimmered with a new light. It looked like hope, but he couldn’t quite tell.  


“You need a statement of purpose. Your reason for the strike.. like the trolley workers. They wanted fair pay, safety on the job—”  


“Well who don’t want that!”  


“Okay, okay. Then.. you need the union to vote.”  


At that, Jack narrowed his eyes briefly before nodding, turning to the gang of boys, all of whom were enthralled by the notion of going on strike now. “Alright, look, it’s up t’you folk. Are we gonna lie down an’ let Pulitzer pick our pockets, or are we gonna strike? Again, the choice is yours. Eat the pavement, or strike?” He asked, and practically in unison, the word _‘Strike!’_ filled the air. Jack beamed, standing tall as David moved to stand beside him.  


“Damn right. It’s official, the newsies of Lower Manhattan are officially on strike!” He declared, David looking over them before back at Jack. Both were smiling now, even if David’s was a little uneasy. A strike was dangerous, and he had to watch out for Les. That, and from what he could tell, Jack went into things without really thinking of what could happen. He just knew what he wanted to get out of it. But… David was already at his side ready to help. Literally.  


That was the beginning of change. The newsies stopped by _Jacobi’s,_ eager to get something into them. The owner handed out glasses of water, Albert earning a sigh and his drink after refusing to pay for the seltzer he ordered. Davey’s eyes landed back on Jack, who sat a table away with his brother, before turning to the group and raising his glass triumphantly.  


“I think, we launched our strike in a most auspicious manner.” His smile wavered some when no one cheered. _Auspicious._ As if any of them would know what that meant. The clamour rose as Mush corrected him, clapping and joyous cheers taking over the silence. David watched them all, amused as he joined in, when he felt someone near him. He turned, and there was Jack.  


“So, Davey. What ah.. what d’we do now?” He asked, his eyebrows raised and his figure leaning closer. David moved back some out of instinct.  


“Well, we have to get the word out to the rest of the newsies. Otherwise, we won’t get much done. Strength in numbers, y’know?” Jack nodded.  


“Alright.” With that, he designated kids to represent in the different cities of New York, to share the cause. Then, came the one no one wanted to take. Brooklyn. “Awe, c’mon. Brooklyn! Spot Conlon’s territory.” His eyes swept the room before he groaned. “Oh, he ain’t so bad! Me an’ Davey’ll take Brooklyn then.”  


They would _what?_ David started to oppose the idea. In came Katherine, notepad in hand just like she had during the show. “What’s the issue with Brooklyn?” She asked, looking at the group. Jack’s interest had shifted slowly from David to the girl, blue eyes locking on her figure. David rolled his own. Jack really was a shameless flirt.  


“Hey, Plumber. What’re you doin’ here, huh? Are you followin’ me?” He asked, ducking behind David who shook his head. Katherine cleared her throat and moved towards the pair.  


“The only thing I’m following is a story. A rag-tag group of misfits and ragamuffins aiming to take on one of the biggest men in New York. Do you think you have a chance? Or is this just a dream with no support?” She asked, cocking her head as Jack rose.  


“Y’know, a comment like that ain’t gonna get you many interviews. An’ a reporter needs those to be successful. Speakin’ of, I ain’t seen many girl reporters in the papes, an’ I’ve been hawkin’ ‘em for ages. What’s the last paper you wrote?” He asked, almost tauntingly. Leave it to Jack to send mixed messages.  


“What’s the last strike you organised, Mr.Kelly?”  
She retorted. Jack raised his hands, David and the rest of the boys ‘ooh’ing with surprise. It wasn’t often that Jack got shot down so smoothly, nor was it easy to shut him up. She did both. David stood now, his hand going to Jack’s shoulder as he looked at Katherine.  


“I say we save any exclusive for a real reporter,” He muttered, the girl’s expression going from confident to exasperated in a flash. She didn’t understand why they weren’t accepting her offer. No one else was lining up to write their story.  


“Is there anyone else willing to give you the time of day? Look, I’m just coming from the social pages. Theatre and everything like that. _But,_ give me the inside look of things. Let me run with it, and I swear. You will get the space you need to make this big. If you can do this.. you’ll land yourselves on the front page.”  


The notion prompted eager agreement, Jack quieting everyone before crossing his arms, and looking down at the girl who’d managed to make him oh so torn up the night prior. “You want a story, huh? The circulation gate. Tomorrow morning. Oh, an’ bring a camera…” His serious expression shifted as he turned around to face David, grinning. “You’re gonna wanna snap a picture o’ this!”  


It wasn’t long before the newsies were kicked out of the restaurant — paying customers needed their seats, apparently. Jack, David, and Les ended up walking together, following their usual route. This time, they were more careful to avoid Snyder. Jack was lost in thought. A strike. A major strike, which he was the leader of. Co-leader he figured, given that Davey was the one to come up with the idea in the first place.  


_“Jack.”_ David stopped Jack in his path, effectively snapping him out of his daze, before he continued. “I’m bringing Les home, it’s gettin’ late. But I’m coming back to the house. We gotta talk.” There was no room for arguing, not at all. Jack simply nodded, noticing that Les was practically falling asleep as they walked. He looked between the brothers.  


“Yeah, alright. I’ll be there,” He said, before they parted ways. Talk. What did they have to talk about? Did David feel the same thing as him? Jack couldn’t even tell what it was. Was he annoyed about getting their names in the paper? He couldn’t tell. The questioned trailed him all the way home. The newsies’ excitement hadn’t diminished; all throughout the house, plans and eager chatter could be heard. Jack ignored the questions he was bombarded with by simply saying they’d have to wait for tomorrow for an answer. It seemed to work. Jack went into his own room this time, setting up his art supplies. Sometimes, charcoal scribbles didn’t cut it.  


He removed his work shirt, leaving him in the one he usually painted in, and dipped his brush in a small pool of blue paint. No one bothered him, until Race knocked on the closed door.  


“Hey, Jack. David’s here for ya,” He said, the door opening and revealing the two. Jack thanked his friend, who walked back downstairs after shutting his door. David glanced around the room. It definitely was what he expected; the strewn papers, paint stains on everything, brushes tossed aside. It was all very… Jack.  


“Well, don’t we gotta talk?” Jack asked, his voice sounding almost nervous as he continued to paint. David nodded like he’d forgotten why he came over in the first place.  


“It’s nothing bad. I’m just… worried. A strike’s a big deal, Jack. And I know, I’m the one who said it and all, but it’s dangerous. People are gonna get hurt, and for all we know, they aren’t gonna listen to us, and we’ll be back to square one again,” He sighed, Jack listening properly now. It was a minute before he could respond.  


“Davey, ‘course it’s gonna be dangerous. Haven’t you read the papes? Them trolley workers are gettin’ their skulls busted, but we’s is kids. They ain’t gonna worry. And, when they ain’t makin’ any money because we ain’t hawkin’ the papes, they sure as hell will listen. There’s nothin’ to worry about,” He reassured as he went back to painting. But David was adamant. 

“It’s a great idea, sure. Hypothetically. You don’t get how badly this can go. Or maybe you do, but you think we can get by it. Jack, we are kids. We can’t do much. Half of you probably have some target on your heads anyway, especially you. You can go back to _jail_ , Jack. Jail!”  


“Hey, I’ve been to jail once before for them kids, I ain’t afraid to go back now.” The statement shut David down. This wasn’t about Jack. This wasn’t about the newsies, either. Jack was worried about all the kids, just like he always was. David had forgotten that about him.  


With a small nod from both teens, the conversation ended just like that. More silence. Jack tossed his paintbrush aside after wiping it off on a rag, and moved to lay on the bed, not quite caring that David was in his way. Splotches of reds and blues covered his hands, streaks of orange on his forearms. David was worried that it would stain the blankets. He moved to sit beside Jack.  


“You like painting,” He asked, though it was more of a statement than anything. The other nodded. “D’you always just paint landscapes an’ stuff? Or do you do people, too?” His question was simple enough, but Jack knew he couldn’t answer. He was horrible at keeping his mouth shut, and at that rate, he’d spill that he’d drawn the boy the night before. He hummed, thinking.  


“I do all sorts. I ain’t much good at people, though. So’s.. I stick t’scenery.”  


“Well... from what I saw at Medda’s, you’re probably really good at people. Isn’t that the thing with artists? They always think they’re awful at one thing, but in reality it isn’t half bad?”  


A soft laugh sounded from Jack, his strikingly colourful hand coming to pull his hat off and drop it beside the bed. “Oh, yeah. That’s all we do. It’s worse for me. Try bein’ an artist _and_ a dreamer. Well, I guess all artists gotta be a little o’ both.” Jack looked over at David, the two quiet for a moment as David laid across the foot of the bed, sighing.  


“I bet that’s nice… I don’t wanna go home. It’s already dark out. But, I’ve gotta bring Les in tomorrow anyways. He can’t go alone.”  


Jack propped himself up some and shook his head. “Y’dont gotta leave right now. It’s only.. maybe, nine. Fifteen more minutes. Then y’leave.” There was an edge of desperation in his voice; he really didn’t want David to leave. It wasn’t often they got to be alone together, and the thudding of Jack’s heart seemed to grow louder with each minute. Once again, confusion spread through him. Was it possible? Could he be attracted to David.? It seemed it. Every time he caught David staring at him, now, his stomach filled with butterflies, he felt light, and his heart beat a little faster.  


Jack didn’t break his gaze at David. His mind was silent, all he heard was his heart beating madly. He cleared his throat, wondering why his friend hadn’t made an attempt at stopping him from staring. Oh, lord. Jack didn’t know what to do with himself. Not anymore.  


“Fifteen more minutes. That’s fine. But, you have to show me some more drawings,” David bargained, Jack narrowing his eyes.  


“Did Les teach you that?” He teased, swinging his legs over the bed to be right next to the boy, before finding a stash of old drawings. They sat and filed through them for far longer than fifteen minutes. At one point, Jack handed the papers over to David, who took the opportunity to examine them closely.  


He only stopped when he felt a weight on his shoulder, turning and looking down at a sleeping Jack. A smile crossed his face, before he snuck the artwork back under the bed slowly, and paused. With a little maneouvering, David slipped away from the boy, helping him into the bed, and pulling the blanket over him. He was used to doing such, it was practically routine with his brother. This felt a little more special. The image of a sleeping Jack Kelly on his shoulder stayed with him as he made the journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter but not all of it, and it’s late, so I’ll edit it more tomorrow. However, lemme say that writing those scenes that aligned with the musical were difficult.


	7. Parler Bouche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack knows that in order to get this strike moving, they need the ‘okay’ from Brooklyn.  
>  _Great._  
>  He enlists Davey for help, which raises some concern. David really is stronger than he lets on, but the others aren’t strong enough.

Going into Brooklyn was not something David looked forward to. If he was honest, even the walk to the Lodge House to meet up with Jack had his palms sweating. The previous night, his questions and concerns of who Spot was, if he really was as bad as they say, and a million other things, went ignored. Some of the boys even laughed at them. He knew he was in over his head at that point.  


Jack was sitting on the front steps of the building, sketch pad in hand along with an actual pencil. Hunched over some, his tongue poking out between his teeth; the epitome of concentrated. David almost wished he had a picture. Jack was never quiet, nor did he ever look that into something, except for the night before. Oh, what a night that was. David’s hand came up to graze his shoulder, a faint smile crossing his face, before he sighed, and interrupted Jack’s process. “Hey, we better get goin’, right?” He asked, Jack looking up and grinning as he put his things in his satchel, standing up.  


“Someone’s awful excited to leave. You sure y’didn’t wanna go to begin with?” He asked, patting David on the back as the two began the journey down the streets, towards the the harbor.  


  


“Smell that Davey? That, is the East River. This is Spot Conlon’s territory,” Came the voice of Jack, who didn’t seem at all nervous by their whereabouts. Every newsie knew of the infamous Spot Conlon. He and Jack were neck to neck in popularity, hell, Spot was practically rising above him. But the way Jack spoke, so casually of the boy, it seemed that he either didn’t notice, or he didn’t care. Knowing Jack, it was probably the latter. David nodded and looked out at the expanse of the water flowing beneath the bridge.  


Brooklyn. It was no lie to say that most newsies feared to enter the territory. Fights have broken out over boundaries before, and the notion of fighting _the_ Spot Conlon was terrifying. He and his ‘henchmen’ had ears everywhere. One minute, you’re strolling along the Brooklyn Bridge – already a deathwish – the next, you’re surrounded by hordes of scrappy looking kids with slingshots, and the one that they declared their leader. David could’ve sworn that he felt the pricking of dozens of eyes, Jack dismissing it, even though he felt it too. A group of boys had begun to follow them, as if leading them somewhere. Despite his nerves, David went along with it, eyeing Jack who looked fearless as ever. He then noticed the sound of a harmonica drawing nearer, wondering where the noise was coming from, before the group stopped. David fidgeted quietly, cracking his knuckles. A new tune came from the harmonica, quick like a signal, before it died out. The only sound was that of the water, and the bells on the docks.  


“Well well, if it ain’t Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.” The voice seemed to sprout up from nowhere, yet the heavy Brooklyn accent was unmissable. From behind stacks of rotting timbers emerged a figure. David was surprised by his stature, but the grin on the others face left little to imagine of his identity. It had to be him.  


“Look at ya, Spot. You’s movin’ on up in the world now aren’t ya? You’ve got an ocean view an’ everything,” He teased, a grin coming over him to challenge Spot’s.  


The smaller boy hopped down from his hiding place, standing in front of Jack and David. Short, tousled brown hair, big arms, and a gaze that truly showed he owned the place. Even his goons parted a small path for him to stand in front of Jack, his arms crossed. Spot narrowed his eyes and laughed almost teasingly, nodding some before speaking up.  


“The birds is chirpin’, Jackie boy. They’s is loud, too. I hear, that you an’ your boys are playin’ like you’s is goin’ on strike.”  


Jack shook his head, hands in his pockets. David spoke up then, his voice a bit shaky. “We aren’t playing. We really are going on strike, to help the—”  


Spot gestured towards the tallest boy, looking at Jack. “Who’s this, Jackie? A walkin’ mouth?” He asked.  


“Yeah, a mouth with a brain. An’ if you’ve got half as many you’ll listen to him,” Jack stated, arms crossed as he came to David’s defence. An awkward silence began to fill the air before an elbow nudged the boy’s side. David nodded.  


“Oh— right. We… we started the strike. Brought up the idea. Jack is trying to get the ball rolling, and.. we can’t really get people on board without the Brooklyn seal of approval.” This piqued Spot’s interest, his eyebrow raising as he smiled, nodding for David to continue. “That’s what the other cities said. They said they’re not joining until Spot Conlon gives the okay. You’re the key. That with you and your boys we’d be unstoppable,” He went on, glancing at the smaller boy finally, just to sell his point. “So, you have to join, because… ‘cause… well, you just have to.” Arms crossed awkwardly, as if mimicking the other boys, David puffed his chest out some. Jack would’ve laughed, had he not been proud of the boy.  


“You’re right,” Spot started after watching David’s attempts at intimidation, “He has brains…” His attention turned to Jack, taunting him. “But so do I. How do I know you punks ain’t gonna run an’ hide at the first hit of some goon? How do I know you’re in it to win?”  


Jack looked at him, his eyes narrowing some. “Because I says we is.” Spot shook his head.  


“Ain’t good enough, Jackie boy. You have to show me.” With that, he began to walk off, Jack storming over to him.  


“You can’t just— y’know, maybe you’ve lost your guts, Spot. Or you got soft or somethin’. Maybe _you_ gotta show _me_ that you ain’t scared of no strike,” He spoke, the threat passing his lips with ease. Spot wasn’t having it, continuing to walk towards his original entry point before turning to the two.  


“That’s exactly what I mean, Cowboy. This ain’t no kids game or truth or dare. Show me you’re in it to win. Then I’ll think about it.” The words were sharp, and Jack didn’t seem pleased by the response. Then, Spot was gone, his boys following. Jack stared as they disappeared, his hands flying about as he grumbled to himself angrily.  


“He can’t talk to you like that. Why would you come all this way for a ‘game’ or if you didn’t mean it?” David asked, trying to make him feel better as they began the walk back home. “And.. and him talking to you like you’re just some kid— it ain’t right. I mean you are a kid but that’s besides the point. You and him are equals. We all are. We all want the same thing and I don’t understand why he just doesn’t listen.”  


Jack looked over at his friend. The surprise in his face was palpable, and David scratched at the nape of his neck. “Jeez, Davey. Didn’t expect that from you. But, thank you. Glad that you can be reasonable behind all the brains,” He said, walking closer to David with a small sigh. “C’mon, lets go see the others. I’ll bet they’s is gonna love hearin’ about this…”  


“What did Spot say—” “Are they with us?” “Are we backing down—” All the questions bombarded the boys as they returned to Newsie Square, Jack groaning.  


“Yeah, they’s is with us when they see we ain’t backin’ down when things get tough.” He moved to stand at the gate, shaking his head some. “Look, all we gotta do is—”  


“Well, look what we’ve got here. We caught wind of someone planning a strike. Ain’t that something?” Morris said, grabbing the newsies’ attention.  


“Fine by me. I think I could use a little action nowadays. I’m sick o’ seeing the trolley workers.” Oscar added on, opening up the gates for the boys before walking away, Finch stepping out and turning back to the others. “Are we.. doing the right thing?” David stepped in now.  


“Yes, we are. Look. We can do this without Brooklyn. Now. Now is the time to seize the day. We need to show them— Weisel, the Delancey’s, Pulitzer, Hearst, everyone in power, that we will find a way. We are going to break them down. We don’t have a lot of us, no. We’re _kids_ , but that changes nothing. If we work together, we will find a way to take them down. They sit up there like they have a throne over a kingdom. They don’t. They don’t get to change prices whenever they feel like it, they aren’t the ones doing the work,” He said. The boys were silent, all eyes on him. Jack looked at him, before out at the crowd.  


“You heard Davey, folks. We’ve got a strike to run!” He cried, the resounding cheers of the newsies filling the air before they ran out of the gates, sitting on the wagon much like the day prior. At Weisel’s line-up call, no one budged except for three boys, who left the rest much to the others dismay. Shouts and curses left their mouths, most of which being _’scabs!’_ Jack and a few others tried going after them, before David stepped in.  


“Hey! We can’t hit on other kids! We’ll just seem childish and then nothing will go right!” Jack tried to move again, before David eyed him, the other sighing before he moved in between the group of angered teens and the few that had broken away.  


“Look… one of them’s up there put you up to this. I—I don’t know, maybe they slipped you some extra money too, yeah? Well it ain’t right. Pulitzer thinks we’s is gutter rats, with—with no respect for one another is _that_ who we are? Well, when we stab each other’s backs, yeah, that’s who we are. But, if we stand together. Show him he ain’t gonna sway us with a couple extra dollars, or petty bribes. Nothin’. If we stand together, we change the game…” He tried, looking at those who’s attention he held. “And it ain’t just about us! Across the city, across the _country_ , there are boys an’ girls who should be playin’ and goin’ to school, but instead, they’s is on their hands and knees shinin’ shoes an’ sellin’ papes an’ gettin’ sick in those damn factories, _just_ to support themselves and they’s families! There ain’t no crime to bein’ poor! None of us complain when the work gets too hard, all we ask is a square deal!” He was red in the face, spit flying as he pointed furiously, _desperately_ at the sign that held the headline that hadn’t shifted.  


“Fellas… for the sake of all the goddamn kids in every sweatshop, slaughterhouse, and factory in this town, and across the state, I beg of you… throw down your papes, and join the strike.”  


A scab walked over, his face set firmly as he stood in front of Jack. One by one, they lined up, throwing down their stacks of paper. Some took more convincing than others, but one by one, newsies began to tear into the stacks, tossing papers about haphazardly. It was a start, and in their jovial euphoria, it seemed like a win. It all seemed like some glorious dream, invaded by the presence of Wiesel and the Delaney’s. A dream sequence that continued — children were victorious against the adults; and they seemed to glow. The semi-dream turned quickly to a nightmare.  


A piercing whistle sounded from the nearby sidewalk. The police. The action halted, a freeze-frame against the silver screen. Romeo stepped out with a pant, going over to one of the officers.  


“About time y’showed up! They’s is slaughtering’ us out he—” He started, words cut off by a hand across his cheek, sending him sprawling. Eyes went wide as they watched, before things went even worse. Men against boys. They were no match. Jack watched helplessly as some were grabbed by officers, and tossed into wagons. Screams fell to deaf ears.  


_”Kelly!”_ The boy’s head whipped around, through the fray his name was called by the one person he did not want to see. He felt his blood run cold, already seeing Racetrack dart away. He found Davey’s eyes, before bolting, Snyder hot on his trail for a moment before finding an easier target.  


“Jack! Wait for me! _Jack!_ Help!” Jack looked down at the scene from a fire escape, blood pounding in his ears as he saw Crutchie, his brother compared to the rest, cuffed, beaten, and dragged away.  


_“Crutchie! No!”_ Jack screamed as he ran back down, trying to evade the officers and go after him. He looked out at the desolate Newsies Square, eyes wide in fear. He stayed on the ground after stumbling, raking his hands through his hair before slamming his fists on the stone, curses pouring from his mouth.  


“This wasn’t ‘sposed to happen… this ain’t fair! This isn’t fair!” He shouted, crumpling into a smaller version of himself as he stared at the papers that littered the ground, before slowly walking home, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... the next few chapters aren’t going to get any better let me just say.


	8. Nom Caché

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visits to old homes, old relationships, and old memories, leaves the boys more vulnerable than ever.

“Are you sure this is a smart idea?”  


“Davey, I ain’t leavin’ now. Crutchie doesn’t deserve to be in here, an’ it’s my fault. We’s is gonna stay an’ see him,” Jack replied, gesturing to the fire escape as they sneaked up. Jack peered in through the barred windows to try and find the boy, spotting a familiar face. Green eyed, gangly arms and legs, and the familiar sound of clanging coins as he ran to the window.  


“Cowboy!”  


“Hey, Copper. How’s it goin, huh? You holdin’ up?” Jack asked, the boy nodding excitedly. It was almost as if he hadn’t aged. In fact, he looked even younger than he had when Jack spent time in the Refuge. Copper grinned, chipped teeth and all.  


“Oh I’m doin’ just fine, as fine as you can get with Snyder on your back. Found a few more pennies,” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of coins. Jack let out a small laugh, before leaning against the window sill.  


“Aye, have you seen Crutchie anywhere?” He asked, Copper humming as he thought. “C’mon, Copper, the one with the–”  


“The crutch, gimp leg. Yeah I seen him, I’ll tell ‘em you’s is here,” He nodded and hurried off, clutching his earnings so they wouldn’t make as much noise.  


“That’s Copper. He’s a little thief. Three years younger than me. Clever kid, used t’be real good at math and what have you,” Jack said to David, who nodded, then peeked inside curiously.  


“How long were you in here for..?” He asked, eyes falling on Jack, who furrowed his brow.  


“Ah… I got out when I was fourteen. Went in when I was seven.. Eight maybe. So around seven years,” He hummed, “They treat me like a leader or somethin’ in there. Guess people think I do a good job of it. Clearly I don’t.” David didn’t reply, staring at Jack for another few seconds. It was a moment of silence before in hobbled Crutchie, moving close to the window. Jack started to greet him, relief spreading through the boy at the sight of his friend. He didn’t look terrible. Bruises were scattered across his body, both from the fight and presumably events that had happened behind the walls of the refuge, but the light in his eyes had not dimmed in the slightest.  


He took too long though, and the door burst open once more, a few wardens coming in and looking at the younger boy. He didn’t even see them until they grabbed him, Jack’s eyes widening as he shook his head. Not again, not _again_. David seemed to freeze up, Jack banging on the bars of the window furiously, trying to get them to stop, or at least pause the beating. It only seemed to agitate them more, David having to pull the screaming brunet from the window.  


“Jack, let’s go, we’ve gotta go, they’ll take us too–” He pleaded, “Jack, let’s _go _.” He grabbed his arms, yanking him away from the window and down the escape. Jack tried pushing his hands away, before David stood in front of him, grabbing his collar. “We have to leave. Okay? We’ll… we’ll get him out of here. Okay?”__  


Jack looked pale, sick even, as he looked at David. “It’s my fault, Davey. He’s all busted up, an’ – an’ it’s my fault!” He cried, running his hand through his hair before shaking his head. Another panicked phrase began to spill from his lips before he heard shouting from the window. David pulled him down the street, the boys feet flying against the pavement. Snyder didn’t bother with them; they were already too far gone to begin with, but they didn’t take that into account. They didn’t want to be brought in there at all.  


__Jack pulled David down an alley, stopping when he realised no one was following them. He panted heavily, breathing laboured as he slammed his fists against the wall.  
_ _

__“Jack— stop that. You’ll hurt yourself,” He said softly, his own voice shaking as he watched Jack slide down the wall, frustrated. “We… let’s go back to my house. We can get some food and you can sleep, because from the looks of it you haven’t,” He offered, crouching down in front of his friend before holding out his hand. Jack’s were scraped from the brick, but he didn’t seem to care. He hung his head then stood up, looking at David and nodding. No words were exchanged as they walked back to David’s house.  
_ _

__Jack gave a small smile as Les ran over and greeted him, as per custom, and the whole group went and ate dinner. Sarah looked at Jack, who hardly even ate anything. Instead he picked at his meal, eating more when he felt eyes on him. She leaned over to David, whispering.  
_ _

__“Something’s not right, David…”  
_ _

__“Yeah, I know that. He’s going through a lot. Leading a strike is hard,” Her brother muttered back, both siblings nodding as they ate. David led Jack up to his room once the meal finished, and shut the door.  
_ _

__“Jack… it isn’t your fault, you can’t be everywhere at once.”  
_ _

__“It is my fault. He’s my brother, an’ I let them bastards take him away. Then, thanks to my brilliant plan, he got busted up so bad that he couldn’t even make it to the window, and we _left_. We left him, Dave,” He shook his head, holding his head. “You can’t say this ain’t my fault. It all is, all the boys gettin’ hurt, and snatched up, an everythin’. It is all my fault,” He hiccuped and covered his mouth, his hands trembling.  
_ _

__David was quiet for a minute, brown eyes cast onto the floor. He knew that everything had to be eating Jack alive. He heard a strangled sort of sound, and looked back at Jack.  
_ _

__Never in a million years did he expect Jack Kelly to cry.  
_ _

__But the boy shook, doing everything in his power to keep the tears from spilling. His eyes were already red, and his lower lip was drawn between his teeth as he let out a broken sob, fingers tangled in his dark locks.  
_ _

__“It ain’t fair!” He exclaimed, David looking at him with a twisting stomach. “They don’t treat you good in there. When I was there they put all the blame on me an’ I got busted up. Just like Crutchie. You don’t eat for weeks. You don’t sleep. I’ve seen kids stronger than Crutchie wanna give up, an’ I know that’s true because I was one o’ them! There ain’t nothin’ fair about this!”  
_ _

__“I know, I know it isn’t but—”  
_ _

__Jack shook his head. “No, no y’don’t know! It’s ‘cause o’ me! They knows me there, the infamous Jack Kelly! Get him back in prison an’ you’s is gonna get your name in the pape for sure. Like father like son!” He raved, stiffening when he realised what he’d said.  
_ _

__David’s eyes held confusion, then. “I thought… I thought you said your dad, and your mom, were in Santa Fe. That they were just waiting to send for you…” Jack shook his head and wiped at the tears that had spilled down his cheeks. After a shaky breath, he spoke.  
_ _

__“My parents is gone. That’s true… my dad he— he got arrested, when I was a little kid. Maybe seven. Dragged outta the house right in front o’ me an’ my mother. We didn’t.. we was upset o’ course. It was sorta iffy anyhow. Some days we loved him, others… not so much. My mother got sick, real quick. An’ she was stressed all the time, an’ I had to start sellin’ papes to try an’ help out. I come home one mornin’ after sellin’ my papes, an’—” The waterworks truly began to kick in there, and showed no signs of letting up.  
_ _

__Jack had to stop for a moment, hiccups wracking his body. David’s lips were parted in surprise, looking at the boy who he found so strong. Keeping all of this inside of him for god knows how long. It was clear those at the Lodge House didn’t know. He moved closer to Jack, offering him any kind of support that he needed.  
_ _

__Jack cleared his throat, working through the tears. “She’s is layin’ on the floor, an’ I don’t know what’s wrong but she won’t wake up. I try an’ I try an’ she won’t wake up,” He looked at David, looking lost. Pained, even. “I didn’t even get to say ‘bye’, ‘cause she was asleep when I left for work,” He added after a moment. David wrapped an arm around him, hugging him after a moment. He wondered how long it’d been since someone hugged the poor kid.  
_ _

__Jack mumbled something against David’s shirt, seeming to hold his breath afterwards. The other looked down, quiet as he laid a hand on Jack’s back comfortingly. “What..?”  
_ _

__“Sullivan…” He repeated a bit louder.  
_ _

__“I’m missing—”  
_ _

__“My father… his name’s William Jacob Sullivan,” He said softly, palms sweating as he noted the confusion in Davey’s tone.  
_ _

__“So, you’re not… Jack Kelly.”  
_ _

__“Francis Jacob Sullivan. I ain’t gonna keep that name after my father got arrested, just another target on my back,” He murmured, choked up as he looked at David, who’s eyes were wide. Jack’s heart beat faster. David was stunned — he wondered why Jack never told him, why he had to find out now. As if reading his mind, the boy spoke.  
_ _

__“Not even Crutchie knows. None o’ the boys know,” He mumbled and sniffled, coughing. David nodded a little bit, his hand running circles on Jack’s back. Jack didn’t know what to do. Being vulnerable around people was not his ‘thing.’ He slowly leaned into David’s embrace, the two in a heap on the floor. “Davey..?” He whispered.  
_ _

__“Yeah, Jackie?”  
_ _

__“Thank you… and, yeah, don’t call me Francis. Please,” He said, confirming the nickname, (and name for that matter), were correct.  
_ _

__“I won’t… Jack. I just want to know you’re okay…” David said quietly, a hand slowly moving to play with Jack’s hair. He wanted to bring him as much comfort as possible. Gentle fingers carded through the dark, dirty locks, trailing down the nape of his neck before back into his hair. Jack leaned against his friend, shoulders falling as he let the boy do as he pleased. He wasn’t complaining, though. He never realised how much he needed such a connection.  
_ _

__Long into the night, the two sat beside one another, relaxing slowly but surely. Neither of them made it back to the bed. And neither were going to admit that Jack was far clingier than anyone would’ve pegged him to be._ _


	9. Chef Déchu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Losing a battle is hard. Losing many battles is harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a filler chapter so, it’s a lot shorter and quick paced.

The boys were still a tangled mess on the floor, Jack leaning against David, whose arms were wrapped around the other’s frame almost protectively. It wasn’t long before he woke up, though, looking down at his friend and yawning some.  


“Jack… Jack, we’ve gotta get up. The others are gonna be waiting for us,” He said softly, sitting up and shaking him. The boy groaned, swatting some at his hand before sitting up. His appearance was a mirror image of the other night he’d spent at the Jacob’s, and David couldn’t help but crack a smile. It faded when he looked down at the other’s hands; scraped up and a bit bruised from hitting literally everything post leaving the Refuge. With a sigh, he stood up, helping Jack up as well. The two got dressed, well. Fixed their outfits, and proceeded to get ready for the day of doing nothing. Les came into the room as Jack was putting his hat back on, grinning.  


“Can I come with ya guys today? Please?” He asked, pouting just like he had on his first day. The look was hard to say no to, and neither of the boys wanted to say it. But, they also didn’t want him getting hurt. Reluctantly, they agreed, and the three went off for breakfast. It wasn’t much, but still, none of them were really complaining. Mrs.Jacobs looked nervous, glancing between her two sons and Jack. David noticed, putting his hand atop hers. Jack ate a little faster, moving to put his bowl away to be washed before waiting near the door.  


“We’ll be fine, Mom… don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to him,” David whispered and nodded towards Les, the older woman, who’s still young face had creased with worry, nodding as well. She watched them leave, Les still so eager to get going.  


The streets were filled with the same people as any other day. No one was any different; on their way to work, or going to shop, everything was the same. The boys pretended not to be disappointed. As they drew towards the circulation gate, Jack’s heart sunk when he saw how many boys they were missing. He bit his lip and joined the rest.  


“Listen, I know this ain’t easy… we— we just gotta be careful, got it? We can’t lose no one else. Right now, we just gotta focus on winnin’. For Crutchie, and Mush, an’ everyone else. Show them bastards that they won’t beat us,” He said, heads turning towards him almost warily. They knew he was having as rough a time as them. Jack continued, “An’ I know, right now you all probably wanna just… work, an’ be done with it. But we _can’t_ , ‘cause that, that is how they win. We just gotta be more careful…”  


“Famous last words, Kelly,” They heard, turning to see the Delanceys opening the gate for them. No one said a word as they entered the square, tensions raising higher and higher. Most of the boys’ faces were bruised, eyes swollen and lips busted. But they did not look at all afraid. Had they not listened to Jack, they would’ve been at the brothers’ throats then and there. Jack’s fists were clenched at his sides.  


“Papes for the newsies! Line up!” Wiesel shouted. No one moved. “Oh, you’s still goin’ on with that strike thing? Huh. Thought you’d’ve given up after losin’ your friends,” He said, fixing the stacks of papers. Jack stepped closer to him.  


“We ain’t givin’ up… we’s is gonna win. An’ then? Then you’ll be sorry,” He said, pointing at the man, who feigned fear and stepped back.  


“Are you threatening me?” He asked, Jack glaring simply. “Because if you is, I got some help.”  


“We ain’t scared o’ them,” He gestured to the brothers, Wiesel shaking his head.  


“It ain’t them you should be scared of…” He warned, nodding at the brothers. Oscar took the opportunity to move over and grab Jack, who yanked his arm away. Morris joined, and out of instinct, the other shoved him away.  


A repeat of the other massacre. Police officers everywhere. It was a setup. That’s all they wanted — to get one of the newsies riled up enough to have ‘reason’ to send out the bulls. This, though, was far worse. Jack broke out of the fray, scanning the crowd for Les. That kid wasn’t gonna get hurt. Not on his watch. He ran over once he saw the youngest of their group, picking him up and putting him in a barrel. “Stay down, Les!” He commanded, the boy doing as he was told and keeping his head down. Jack turned to move, landing himself on the floor as a fist connected with his jaw. He groaned, standing up again and blinking a few times. He spotted David, who landed a solid punch to one of the officers.  


Despite their efforts, nothing was working. There were even less of them than before, and more officers. There was no way they’d get off easy. Jack’s eyes found David once again, but he wasn’t fairing as well as he had been. One officer knocked him to the ground, another trying to cuff him. The boy ran over to his friend, throwing punch after punch at the officers. One returned them, Jack’s vision blurring for a moment. He felt a sturdy pair of hands grab the back of his shirt, and tried breaking free of the grip, when the assailant spoke.  


“It’s been far too long, Kelly,” They spoke, the sneer audible in their voice. _Snyder._ A whistle sounded, right in his ear, and the fighting seemed to halt. Everyone watched as Snyder cuffed Jack, the newsies watching in fear. He’d been caught. They never imagined it happening. David looked at his friend, trying to go after him as the dazed boy was dragged off. Many of the officers slowly dispersed, getting a few more hits or shoves in as they went. And then it was over. Just as quickly as it had begun.  


David scanned the area for Les, who was picking himself up from the knocked over barrel, and cradling his arm. He looked up at his older brother, truly worried.  


“They took Cowboy. They got him… and you’re bleeding.!” He exclaimed, David putting his hand on his shoulder, ignoring the pain in his nose.  


“I’m taking you home. Jack’s gonna be fine, trust me…” He reassured, hoping he was right as he walked Les back home. His mother was almost ready to break, Sarah cleaning up David’s nose with a sigh.  


David pulled away once she was finished, his mother shouting at him to come back inside. But he was already out the door, furious. Jack was gone. Les’ arm was broken, and he had a bloody nose. David had a plan. His trek led him to Jacobi’s, where he saw none other than Katherine. Perfect. The two made eye contact, hers wide and nervous, his stern.  


“Oh my God, what happened?” She asked, standing up. David grabbed her hand and brought her outside, to the alley behind the restaurant. “Usually you ask before dragging someone somewhere,” She muttered. 

“Yeah? Tell that to Snyder. I don’t think Jack really wanted to get dragged off to the Refuge, but guess what? That’s what happened,” He spat, her eyes wider than before.  


“To what? Where? How?”  


“The Refuge. It’s this… prison thing for kids. Snyder is the guy who runs it, and he does not like Jack. He took him, and he couldn’t even fight back,” David explained, shaking his head. Katherine looked down at her shoes, sighing.  


“Well… maybe he could just, serve the time he was supposed to do. You said it was like a prison, right? I heard that he was a thief, and disobedient when it came to law. Maybe if he does his time, they’ll let him go and they’ll stop going after him,” She said, David looking at her jaw dropped.  


“Let him— don’t you get it!? There’s no ‘doing time’ in there, because it isn’t an actual prison. That’s just how they treat them in there! Like… like they’re animals or something. Jack ran off the first time because they were beating him and the others up, and they weren’t feeding them. You can’t just get them out of there. We don't have the money, and they won’t listen to us. But I guess you could never understand _that._ If Jack stays in there? He’s not going to be the same when he comes out. They took, Crutchie, too. Jack said it himself. That place makes anyone want to give up. And frankly, Jack has been helping out those kids, and the ones he works with now, for forever. He’s a good person, and you’re saying he should stay in there? You don’t get it…” He shook his head, starting to walk away from the dumbfounded Katherine, before she stopped him.  


“Okay, okay maybe I don’t get it. That’s just what I’ve heard from… ‘my’ people. They look down on you guys, why do you think I’m writing your story? No one else has any other perspective on you guys. But I’ll have you know that I care about Jack. And I don’t want him, or any other kid, getting hurt for no reason,” She stated, arms crossed. David turned to her and shook his head.  


“It’s a little too late for that.”  


“Then… then we’re gonna help. We are going to get Jack out of there, and then we’ll get the rest. I can write an article about it, put it in with your guys’ piece. Show that you guys don’t have it easy, because now, we know you have to work on the streets for unfair prices, and there’s always the chance of getting taken away into whatever hell the Refuge is, and that it isn’t just kids our age, it’s all kids, most of which can’t even fight back. We’re gonna show them… but we need Jack, so. We have to get him out,” She plotted and held her hand out to David.  


He didn’t like how she’d talked about him. He didn’t really like her to begin with, but he could tell she was serious. That was something they had in common; both of them cared about Jack. He paused before shaking her hand with a nod.  


“Alright. We’re getting them out of there,” He confirmed, the two heading back into the restaurant to plan their next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting yesterday, I was simply tired. Have fun with the next one.


	10. Évasion Rapide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two coming together for a similar cause. A grande escape plan, really.  
> 

The rooms in the Refuge were even more crowded than those at the Lodging House, Jack didn’t have his usual roommate, and he felt terrible. In more ways than one; his head hurt from all the yelling directed at him, his entire body hurt – the fight took a toll on him, and so did the frequent jabs from the other kids and Snyder himself. And overall, he felt drained. He let down his group. He’d gotten imprisoned, when he’d evaded such a fate for so _long._ He didn’t find it at all appealing. There were new kids here, ones with tempers worse than his own, yet Snyder heeded them no attention. It was always _him_. Just like old times, he often thought to himself.  


Crutchie was stationed in a room two doors down from him. He could see him if he looked out of the small window in his own door, but he never really risked it. There was too much risk placed on the simple action. He was already busted up. Snyder liked to make up for lost time, it seemed, and the few kids who he couldn’t recognise caught him off guard more than once. He just couldn’t focus on them. His thoughts always strayed back to the boys – those he left behind without a leader. They had Davey, he thought. That was far better than nothing. If anything, David was a better leader than he was. David had his head on straight. He was rational, reasonable. He planned and he did _not_ go into these fights without considering every possible consequence. He was a good leader, the brains of the entire operation.  


And now, Jack was alone.  


Not exactly, though. A day into his new living accommodations, and he was reunited with Scraps, the young boy who he’d partnered with in his previous thieving days. He hadn’t changed in the slightest, save for him getting a little taller. His brown eyes and crooked teeth had stayed the same, as did his lanky figure. Jack had to admit, he was relieved to see his old friend. It was a bittersweet reunion; he’d been hoping that he would’ve gotten out of the god forsaken place long before, even after he did. But, no such luck for most of those who’d been taken in. Plus, Scraps was just that — a scrawny kid that, despite having the heart of a lion, just couldn’t make it in a fight. The guards could probably pick him up with one hand, (then again, that wasn’t exactly his fault.) He was Jack’s intel for the happenings of the Refuge.  


Scraps explained that since Jack had left, two other boys had been vying for the status of ‘leader’ of those in the Refuge. Jack could see why — replace _the_ Jack Kelly, and you were certainly popular in the kids’ books. The boy could’ve sworn he’d come to meet both of them:  


One boy was tall, almost taller than David, with black hair, missing teeth, but he had quite the silhouette. He was a strong kid, and he and Jack had definitely met — he had the bruises to prove it. The other was very small, (he reminded Jack of Spot), greasy blonde hair, a crooked nose, yet he was clever. Son of a bitch got a kick out of carefully placing the blame for his faults on Jack.  


And Jack, he couldn’t do anything about it. His hands were practically tied. It came close to it literally, too. Snyder always had his stupid cuffs with him, and he’d threatened many times over that if there was any sort of misbehaviour, he wouldn’t hesitate to use them. All the kids agreed obediently that he would never have to.  


Some promises were meant to be broken.  


A few days into his stay, and of putting up with the two competitors of the Refuge, Jack broke. It wasn’t his fault, no. Coming back to the Refuge, the kids automatically deemed him as the rightful leader. Cowboy was back, how could they not give him that? The other two, whose names he did not know, were not happy with that.  


During a ‘break’ period, they’d approached Jack, twisted, yellow grins on their equally twisted faces. The younger kids moved to the other side of the room at the direction of the older, not wanting to get hurt.  


“So, Cowboy. Why’re you in charge, huh? You don’t even wanna be here—”  


“Yeah, an’ you do?”  


“Listen, Kelly—” The taller one started, grabbing the collar of Jack’s shirt. “You haven’t been ‘round here. This ain’t your turf no more, so stop actin’ like you’s is all high and mighty,” he warned with a sneer, Jack promptly taking a step closer.  


“What’re _you_ gonna do if I don’t?” He taunted. A fist connected with his jaw, the first of the brewing fight. The room was silent for a moment longer, before a few of the long-time residents cheered Jack on. The boy couldn’t help himself, lunging at the other and swinging. His knuckles were sore on impact, but that didn’t stop him. The two were locked in a tussle on the decrepit floor, more than once, one was caught in a chokehold. The fight was messy — there was no tact to either of their approaches. No, it was just an indoor street brawl. Random hits and kicks; a game of survival so to speak. Granted, if it were a smaller, weaker kid, survival would’ve been the ultimate goal. Blood stained the boys’ clothes from split lips and bruised noses, Jack ending up on top of the other as he went to land another punch. He was on his back before he could even comprehend what was happening, his assailant taking the opportunity to leave a mark.  


The riot in the room grew far too loud, wails and cheers coming from all the kids, before Snyder walked in with a goon, prying the two boys apart. Jack swayed as he was pulled up from the floor, taking one too many hits to his head. His opponent spit out a mouthful of coppery saliva, glaring coldly at the boy that had silently been declared the winner. No one was going to stop Jack from such a title. Snyder looked between them both with an almost bitter laugh.  


“What’s the meaning of this?” His voice boomed in the silent room. Immediately, the taller boy wiped at his nose and spoke.  


“I was gettin’ ready for bed, Mr.Snyder. An’ I go over to Jack ‘ere, askin’ if he had my pillow, an’ he gets all uppity. So’s I go an’ start apologisin’, an’ he swung at me! Sayin’ how no one should be accusin’ him of nothin’ he didn’t do,” he cried pathetically, making a point of wiping the blood from his nose with every other sentence. Snyder clicked his tongue and shook his head as he turned to face Jack. The boy was fuming, yet as the older man approached, he almost began to cower.  


“I didn’ do nothin’. He came up t’me and swung first after talkin’ a whole load,” He explained simply. “I only fought back ‘cause—”  


The sting of Snyder’s back hand could be felt by nearly all the boys, whose eyes had since cast downward. Jack bit his lip, avoiding eye contact like the rest.  


“You know the rules, Mr.Kelly. No such thing will be tolerated in here…” He drawled, and Jack’s hands were behind his back. Forced onto his knees, he earned another slap, a welt forming on his battered cheekbone. He was knocked down, for good measure they claimed, and a boot connected with his ribs. He stopped trying to explain himself, not even fighting back. There was no use to the endeavour. The door was slammed shut as the older men left, Jack slowly picking himself up. Scraps, along with a few of the younger kids, ran over to his side.  


“Nice job, Cowboy. You’s still the leader. Ain’t that worth it?” Scraps tried to comfort him, patting him on the back of his shoulder. One of the younger kids examined him, before darting off to his bed, pulling out an old, black Stetson. Jack perked up a little at the sight of it, the other running back over as he placed it on Jack’s head.  


“There y’go, Cowboy. Nows you’s is Sheriff. Scraps saids it was yours when y’came here. We didn’t let no one touch it, promise,” He relayed happily, beaming with pride through a gap toothed smile.  


Jack took it off, just to look it over, before placing it back on his head. “Thanks, kid. Means a lot…” He nodded and tossed a pained smile. His own hand came to wipe away the blood welling from the cut on his lip, licking it once before he stood up. “C’mon, let’s just get to bed. There isn’t anythin’ else t’do.” The group in the room did just that, fixing up their sheets before retiring to sleep. Jack couldn’t get comfortable, ending up on his back once more as he stared at the bed above his, Scraps on one side of him, a stranger on the other. He stayed awake much of the night.  


  


“This is the Refuge..?” Katherine’s nervous voice broke through the heavy silence of the streets. No one was out at this time, save for a few women, and men staggering home with cologne of rum. David nodded a little, the pair approaching the building.  


“Yeah. Crutchie’s in there, too. We are gonna get Jack first. Snyder has it out for him, and he can’t keep his mouth shut,” he replied, the two approaching the fire escape. David got the chills, thinking of his last visit to the place. Up past Crutchie’s room, nonetheless. Determination was set on both of their faces. The plan wasn’t that good; make a distraction, then the three make a run for it.  


A shaky sigh left David as he peered through the glass, dark rooms on the other side. Katherine gasped as she looked in. She couldn’t even fathom what it was like in there beforehand, seeing it now was even more shocking. Three kids to a bunk in more rooms than one, dirt and peeling paint, rats. One room even had a sizeable patch of mold along the bottom edge of the wall.  


“There he is…” Said David, catching sight of his friend. He narrowed his eyes and got his hand through the gap of two bars, rapping on the glass. It took a few tries, and more than one kid woke up. Scraps came to the window curiously.  


“Aye, who’re you?” He asked, trying to sound intimidating. David looked at Katherine, before back at him.  


“My name’s David. This is my… friend, Katherine. We’re looking for Jack— Cowboy.” Scraps eyed the two, before tiptoeing back to his bunk and whispering to the sleeping boy. He shot up like he’d been burnt, eyes immediately fixated on the window as the two on the other side waved. A quick survey of the door, and he met the glass.  


“Davey? What the hell— an’ you too? What’re you doin’ here?” He whispered incredulously, brows knit together. Katherine started to speak, David shaking his head.  


“We are getting you out of here. All you have to do is run out. Trust us, you’ve done it before haven’t you?” Jack looked at his friend like he was insane.  


“Yeah, when Teddy Roosevelt stopped by an’ I had a distraction..!”  


“Okay, well… we can go and—”  


“I’ll help you, Cowboy.” Jack’s head, along with the two outside, turned towards Scraps, who held a glint of mischef in his eyes now. Jack tried to disagree, Scraps shutting him up by putting his hand over his mouth. “I ain’t worried. Snyder never does nothin’ to me anyways. I can handle it, Jack,” He spoke quietly, slowly, like Jack wouldn’t understand any other way. A stalemate, before Jack sighed, biting his lip.  


“Fine. But if he kills you, I’m comin’ back an’ busting you up. Got that?” He joked, ruffling the other’s hair, who slapped his hand away. Jack couldn’t stifle his laugh. All at once, a new plan was devised. The kids were back in bed, before Scraps ran out of the room, banging on Snyder’s door and running down the hall opposite the front doors. It caught his attention instantly. He left the room, and Jack didn’t even have time to say goodbye to anyone before he bolted from his own, down the flights of stairs and towards the front door. He shoved goons out of the way, scrabbling to open the door and slamming it shut. David and Katherine made it down the escape, the trio continuing to run for quite some time before they stopped in Jacobi’s. They settled in a booth in the back, all panting, Jack’s frame resting against the table.  


“Hey, Katherine… I’m sorry for what I said. I was just, y’know,” David said quietly. He felt bad for having snapped at her, even if he still thought she’d deserved it. Katherine shook her head, still breathing heavily.  


“No, no you were right. You had a right to be mad. I was being… ignorant, to say the least. But it’s over now. I forgive you.” The small smile that she gave him was enough for him to know she wasn’t lying. David looked at his friend as he felt a strong hand grip his arm, before he was led outside.  


“What’re we doing..?” He asked as the grip was relinquished, watching Jack pace the small length of the alley that he’d conversed with Katherine in.  


“Why?”  


He paused, more confused. “Why… what?”  


“‘Oh, you’re just gonna run out, an’ it’ll all be fine!’ What kind of a plan is that?” Jack asked, exasperated as he looked at the taller brunet.  


“Not a good plan, no, but it worked didn’t it? Would you rather be stuck in there? Why’re you getting mad at me for saving you?”  


“Because I don’t need t’be saved, Dave. I got caught, I can deal with it. You could’ve gotten caught too! Then what? Who’d feed your folks an’ sister an’ Les? Huh? Who’d help look after ‘em?” He continued, ranting as he stepped closer to David. He was angry. The idiot could’ve been _caught_ , and he didn’t seem to care at all. He couldn’t understand it.  


“Jack you—” He stopped when he saw Jack’s face. He grabbed his shoulders, examining him. “Oh…” He sighed and looked over his wounds, noting how many bruises never seemed to get the chance to heal, the cuts and scrapes and everything else. “They really did a number on you, huh? Why do you think we wanted to get you out of there? The boys were going crazy, I was worried _sick_ ,” He shook his head, running a hand through his own hair.  


“Yeah, Snyder called it ‘makin’ up for lost time,’” Jack scoffed. “An’ today. This one bastard was all up in my face askin’ why I was the leader or somethin’. I don’ know! An’ he socks me, an’ we fight. Snyder comes in an’ starts yellin’ an’ blamin’ me, all because this.. this _scab_ said he did nothin.” David nodded and looked at him, frowning some. Had they stayed any longer, he would’ve been ready to fight anyone who tried to stop them.  


The two looked over as Katherine approached, looking just as worried as David had before.  


“Aye, sorry Plumber we’s were just about to—” Jack started, the girl shaking her head.  


“No, I um, I was just about to ask to talk with you…” She glanced at Jack, then David, clearing her throat, “alone.” David hesitated as he nodded, saying he’d go in and get their drinks. Jack raised an eyebrow as they were left in each other’s presence.  


“Jack, you heard David, right? We worked together to get you out of there… I just… I want to apologise. When David asked me to help, well. When he came to me saying what happened, I just dismissed it. Saying you’d be fine and that.. that maybe you should just do your time. I heard why you were locked up in the first place. Petty theft and whatever but now, _now_ I see why. Those poor kids, and there were young ones too. Three to a bed, rats all over the floor. There was a leak in a few rooms. Now I see why you were stealing. To protect those kids,” She sighed. The guilt weighed down on her. She hated even acknowledging what she’d suggested him to do.  


With a deep breath, she tilted her head up towards him, Jack listening intently. “I helped because I care, Jack. About you… you snuck up on me, I never would’ve thought that someone like you would be who I… who I feel so strongly about, but you are. I don’t think I’d have it any other way,” She bit her lip, trying to hide a shy smile before she leaned in, locking their lips in a tender kiss. Jack didn’t pull away, either. Slender hands held his face, warm and gentle, before they both took a step back. He let out a small laugh and nodded.  


“That… that means a lot, Plumber. Guess love at first sight ain’t for suckers no more,” He joked quietly, before looking at the restaurant. “How’s about we head back in? Davey probably ain’t too happy that we’re takin’ so long when I look like this,” He said. Satisified. That’s how he felt. He was right. Both of them. David and Katherine. He could tell just from how worried they both were for him, and how much longing he felt looking at either of them. A sense of fear washed through him. He was _right._ There had to be a million reasons that being ‘wrong’ would’ve been easier, safer, even. Who could love two people at once? What guy falls in love with a _guy?_ He dismissed the thoughts and followed Katherine back inside, still looking zoned out.  


The conversation between the three was soft, the talking mostly done by Katherine and David. They hadn’t expected Jack to speak much; he was probably exhausted, especially if the adrenaline was wearing off. But, he was uncharacteristically quiet. There were no jokes, much unlike the playful banter he’d exhibited in private. Katherine nudged his hand, curious.  


“Hey, what’s on your mind?” She asked gently, Jack shaking his head. She asked again and he pulled his hand back. Her eyes fell to David, who tried the same tactic.  


“Jackie, what’s the matter?”  


“I just got busted up, ain’t that enough reason for you?” He snapped, looking between the two that sat with him before sighing. “I just don’t feel good. It ain’t your fault…” He muttered, burying his head in his folded arms. Katherine cleared her throat, resting a hand on his shoulder as she stood.  


“Alright… I’ll see you both tomorrow, then? Either here or, somewhere. Maybe I’ll even see you at the gates. If not, come here.” Her voice was firm, but light all the while, before she left, the two boys saying their goodbyes. David finished his water, his hand replacing Katherine’s on his friend’s shoulder.  


“C’mon, Jackie. You’re stayin’ with me tonight. My mom’s got stuff to patch you up and all.” Without room for argument, much like usual, the two rose, leaving their glasses as they exited the restaurant. Jack wet his lip, feeling his lip beginning to scab.  


Well wishes bombarded the boy when he entered the house, Les bolting over and hugging his legs. Sarah, and even David’s parents came to greet him with worried smiles. Of course David had told them of what happened over dinners, livid. Each conversation had him red in the face, even leaving the table out of frustration at one point.  


“It’s nice to see you, Jack. Oh— let’s get you something for that,” Mrs.Jacobs said, not even pointing to anything specific as she went and got some bandages. Gingerly, she placed a few on his cheek, his hands, the rest being bruises that would just have to heal on their own. David was surprised to see him so quiet, but also, so compliant. He expected him to say it was fine, or to offer to do it himself. But, after what he’d admitted what felt like years ago, it made sense.  


The pair made their way right up to David’s room. He made his bed quickly, rummaging through his drawers and grabbing the clothes Jack always borrowed when he slept over, tossing them his way. “You can sleep in my bed tonight, I’ll take the couch,” He stated.  


“I’m not takin’ your bed, Davey. ‘M fine.”  


“Jack. You’ve been sleeping three to a bed, and that’s if you’ve been sleeping at all. You can take my bed tonight,” David insisted, the two turning away from one another as they changed. However, David couldn’t help but glance back just once. Jack’s body was covered with mottled purples and yellows, welts along his shoulders. It left a sick feeling in his stomach. The thin white fabric was soon over Jack’s torso, giving David nothing more to look at.  


Reluctantly, Jack started to move to the bed. David seemed frozen in his spot, shaking his head. “Wait—” He started and moved over to his friend, who laughed softly.  


“Y’know Davey, it ain’t polite to take—” He started. Then David’s lips were on his, his hands hesitant as they cupped Jack’s cheeks. Blue eyes and brown ones fell shut as Jack grabbed onto David’s shirt. This was right. Damn, it was perfect, he thought. They were safely tucked away in the comfort of David’s room, with nothing to worry about except time itself. They disconnected after a few moments, gazes shyly averted and returned. Jack didn’t know what came over him, but he took a step back.  


“That was… perfect,” He whispered and bit his lip, beginning to move towards the window. David was quiet with worry, hoping it wasn’t his fault. 

“What’re you doing..?”  


“I’m goin’ t’go with the boys. I ain’t takin’ your bed away.”  


David stared at him, no longer worried as he walked over to the partially opened window. He moved Jack aside, locking it and turning to the boy. “Considering what we just did, I don’t mind sharing the bed. Your timing is awful,” He teased. Jack still seemed surprised, though. But he got in, David right behind him.  


The presence next to him was so very welcome, much unlike the crowded arrangements at the Refuge. David’s breaths were slow and soft, eyes already closed. His free hand moved up to mess with Jack’s hair, noting how much dirtier it felt than the last time. Eventually, the two settled, Jack curled against David, the other’s arm draped lightly over his torso, and the confines of the room shielding them from their issues for the night.  


Jack fell asleep without issue, and for once, he was glad to always be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while to write, I had to rewrite an entire scene, but hey, this hopefully made up for my inconsistency these past few days.


	11. Deux Amants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love in war is hard to maintain, even harder when maintaining the love of one is a war in itself.

A morning in which no one had to do anything was something to be cherished. Neither Jack nor David could really think of a time when they didn’t wake up entirely worried, or incredibly early. The curtains couldn’t block out the rays of the sun that pervaded the room, warming the bed more than it already was. Jack was the first to wake up, turning onto the opposite side so his heavy eyes landed on David. His hair had fallen in his eyes, his lips parted just barely. His cheeks were dusted a light rose, and Jack couldn’t help but crack a smile. Easy breaths left his frame slowly, a charcoal stained hand moving forward and brushing over his cheekbone, his jawline, the hair that fell on his forehead. Jack felt something stirring in his chest. It made him feel light, content. The house was quiet itself; no one moved, the walls didn’t creak, everything was silent.  


His fingers trailed across the bottom of David’s lip, following delicately across his slight cupid’s bow. The boy shifted, a soft hum leaving him, and Jack retracted his hand. Their eyes locked once, and Jack couldn’t help but smile sheepishly. David rubbed his eyes and sighed as his arm came to wrap around Jack. Words were pressed against the front of Jack’s shoulder, earning a ‘what?’ David shifted enough so as to be heard.  


“I said, ‘what’re we doing today?’ Visitin’ the Lodge House to let ‘em know you’re not dead, or are you gonna take another day as vacation?” He asked, and though his voice was rough, and thick with sleep, his tone was just as perceptive as always. His question prompted a shrug from Jack, who then relaxed in the embrace. He never really pegged David to act like this – the boy was always keeping to himself, careful around others, astute. To see him in the morning having just woken up was a little different. His weariness was noticeable, (he wasn’t a morning person, after all,) his hair was messy, and he was just… natural, in a different way than before they fell asleep. Before, it was an overwrought sort of carefulness, muted secrets and touches. After, it was gravelly questions and strong embraces, without him even trying. His arm pulled Jack closer, who didn’t hesitate to wind his own arm around his middle.  


“How’s about we… take another day to ourselves, huh? I don’t want them seein’ me like this just yet. I bet Miss Medda would wanna see us again. She likes you, thinks you’re a good influence or whatever on me,” he hummed, grinning just a little. David looked down at him, pensive, before nodding. He moved forward slowly and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, then hugged him tightly.  


“I’m glad you’re okay… you could’ve _died_ in there.”  


“Yeah, I know. I was in there for ‘round seven years, remember. A week in the place ain’t gonna kill me.”  


“Given that Snyder wanted your head on a pike, I’d say otherwise. You could hardly stand still when we got you out.”

Jack just grumbled in response, knowing he was right. Right after, he pecked David’s lips, more than once. That broke the somewhat stern expression he held, smiling at the small gestures. His hand came to the others cheek, following his prominent jawline before he left another light kiss on the tip of his nose, Jack scrunching up.  


“Aye, I’ve got a reputation of a cool an’ cunnin’ leader. All this sappy stuff ain’t fittin’,” he joked, before looking at David, who seemed satisfied by the response he’d gotten before he kissed Jack. Not that either of them were complaining. It was a very welcome wake up call, and neither of them were morning people.  


Jack pulled away first, stretching a little in an attempt at shaking the rest of the fatigue from his limbs.  


“Let’s get a move on, yeah? We can stay with Medda for a while if we’s get there early enough,” he pointed out before sitting up. “Plus, she wants me to paint a new backdrop. Maybe you can watch or whatever if you thinks I’m so good.”  


“‘Course I think you’re good. You are, that one I saw the first time was fantastic,” he said, insistence in his warm voice. Jack shrugged and got up, the pair sluggishly getting dressed.  


“Maybe we can walk around first,” Jack started, coming up with a new idea. “Y’know, get a look at some old stompin’ grounds an’ what have you,” he suggested with an eager smile, trying to think of places the pair could visit. There was his old house, the school he’d been in for much less time than he’d hoped, where he first met Racetrack and Crutchie and all of the boys. They’d end with the theatre; a perfect date.  


“Alright, let’s just get some food first.” The two set off to the kitchen, Jack still fixing his hair. David seized an opportunity, ruffling it as he walked by the boy with a self-satisfied smile. Jack cursed at him under his breath and gave up, replacing his hat and grumbling under his breath. Bowls of cereal (most likely beginning to go stale) were scoffed down, placed away to be washed, and out the door they went. The morning air was bracing, much like it was weeks before, winds not letting up at all. The streets were relatively quiet for once, and in a way, it was unnerving. There was always a carriage rolling past, or kids on the street, and… newsies. Jack almost wished they hadn’t gone on strike – the lack of shouting, distorted headlines and stomping feet, they all provided a sense of security. They were family, and they had to be reunited. Just… not yet. Rounding a corner after walking a few empty streets, Jack came upon his old house, silent as he examined its decrepit frame. David stood beside him, taking a few steps closer to the building. No one appeared to be living there; the windows having been broken to dusty shards, brick just beginning to grow weathered. Jack inhaled sharply as he walked inside, David following behind him.  


“Here we are then. It ain’t much different than it was when we’s was livin’ in here, actually. Well, ‘cept for the broken windows an’ what have you. It was… it was nicer in here,” he murmured, scuffing his shoes along the floor as the walked. He pointed out his room, carefully avoiding the living area as much as he could. His eyes were ice whenever they walked by it, and his voice thin. Though, he did answer David’s questions, no matter how puerile they seemed.  


“It’s a bit bigger than I’d imagined. I thought maybe you’d lived in an apartment or something,” he said and glanced at his ‘friend.’  


“We woulda had somethin’ nice like that, but my dad couldn’t bring in enough dough to get us outta here, so. Y’know… here we was. An’ that’s where they dragged him outta here,” he pointed to a broken back door. “They did a number on this place. My room was sorta nice, used to write in there a lot. Poems an’ stories an’ whatever I had to to keep myself busy, ‘cause as much as she loved me, my ma was prolly sick of hearin’ me talkin’ ‘bout any an’ everything that came t’mind.”  


David chuckled softly, nodding. He wanted to meet Jack’s mother; he wondered who he looked more like, how long it was before things really started to go wrong, but Jack was already leaving the building, and he didn’t pry any further.  


The next stop was a park, and while it wasn’t exactly something _old_ , Jack seemed to be enjoying himself. Leaves swayed and sometimes came loose from the branches they resided on, fluttering slowly down and landing beneath the feet of those who walked. Jack explained that when he was done with work sometimes, he’d come and sit with his sketchpad, or with a few of the others, and just take a breather. It was the best in the fall, seeing as the sun wasn’t beating down on them the entirety of the time. No, the air provided relief from any discomfort, and overall, held something special in it. It made the newsies feel excited. He also explained how they had made up birthdays for one another, and that they used to go out here to celebrate. He knew his – July twenty-fourth – and refused to share it with the boys. He didn’t want them fussing over him. Of course, Davey asked, and Jack just couldn’t ignore him.  


“Summer, July. The twenty-fourth. It ain’t nothin’ special. I don’t make a big deal of it. I had enough birthdays to satisfy me, some o’ the others didn’t though, an’ I help make sure they do,” he looked over at the boy, whose smile lifted Jack’s spirits. Something about him was just… fulfilling, he figured was the right way to put it. He had everything he wanted and more with David, and he didn’t quite want to admit that. Hell, there was still Katherine in the picture, and he loved her too. But maybe, not in the same way. He’d dated girls before, and never for very long. It was only when he met Davey that he realised that maybe things were different, and that it explained how he felt perfectly. Maybe he just liked guys more. Or, maybe, he just liked Davey more than Katherine, or anyone he’d dated for that matter. He wished he’d thought about it more before Katherine and he were a thing alongside him and David. It wasn’t like he could explain it to her either. For all he knew, she would never view such a thing as sane, or normal. She could tell everyone, too, being a reporter and all. Jack just didn’t want to risk it.  


They stayed in the park for far longer than they’d anticipated, and eventually, they came to the theatre. That in itself was an adventure; Jack backstage, working on a painting while David switched his attention between the acts and the boy. Bright streaks of colour began to cover the canvas; reds and pinks and purples alike, making the trenches of canyons and steep rock walls. Something about the painting held an element of nostalgia. Better yet, a sort of whimsy. David knew immediately where it was; Santa Fe, the place Jack mused about for so long, and now that he thought about it, he didn’t know why. His parents weren’t there like he’d originally said, why the desire to go there of all places?  


“Hey, Jackie?”

“Yeah?”  


“How come you wanna go to Santa Fe so bad? Your parents aren’t… sending for ya, so, why?”  


A small sigh came from Jack, who shrugged. “I just wanna go somewhere where no one knows my name. There ain’t no Jack Kelly, or Francis Sullivan to begin with out in Santa Fe. I can see the stars all I want, an’ I don’t gotta worry about all this craziness that is the World an’ whatever out there. I can just plant my own stuff, an’ just live with no worries. That’s what I want.” Radio silence, (save for the singing and clapping from onstage.) David sat beside Jack, glancing around cautiously before planting a light kiss on his cheek. It said that he was there for him. Jack almost felt that he didn’t want to go to Santa Fe anymore. Home was with Davey, and of course the boys. Though, it also would be nice to not have to worry about Snyder catching him and locking him up again.  


“Stop bein’ a dork, Davey,” he teased, shaking his head. Of course, he didn’t mind. But it was fun to push the other’s buttons.  


“I’ll stop when you let up on goin’ to Santa Fe.”  


“No y’won’t.”  


  


There was nothing quite as upsetting as David having to leave. He wished he could’ve stayed longer, or that he could stay at his house one more night, (technically, he could’ve asked. He just didn’t). However, things just didn’t work out like that.  


“My folks are just.. worried, that’s all. Not about you— well, no, they are. I meant they’re worried that someone’s gonna take me away too for no reason. We wouldn’t be able to handle that. They need me to help and all, and then there’s Les, and Sarah, and—”  


“Hey, hey, I get it. It’s okay, Davey. I’ll see you ‘round then. Maybe you can stop by the lodge house or somethin’.”  


“Alright, I’ve gotta get goin’.” David paused as if considering something, and very quickly kissed the side of Jack’s head as he was working, before leaving. The boy’s cheeks went pink, and a frustrated smile made its way onto his face.  


  


...  


  


Medda finished her act, as did the rest of those who were to go on, and Jack had to leave by closing. He didn’t mind. It was getting late, anyhow, and he really needed to go back to the Lodge House. Those boys probably thought he was dead at this point— and Racetrack was probably in charge. _Not_ a good thing.  


Exiting the theatre, he spotted none other than Katherine, who of course had her notebook in hand, and her eyebrows knit together in concentration. Or, maybe, worry. She looked up and saw him, the nerves letting up and making way for relief.  


“Jack! Perfect! How’s the strike going?” She asked, the boy almost laughing at that.  


“I’ve been in jail, if you recall bustin’ me out with Davey?” Her mood fell back once more, and her lip drew between her teeth.  


“Y’know, I’m worried about you. About the boys. This strike… no one’s been hearing anything about it. You haven’t been there— not that that’s your fault or anything. There’s just no story. No rallies, or outright protests. There hasn’t even been a fight since you left. If I can’t get a story out, you guys might not win… there’s no proof something happened if it isn’t in the papers,” she said, concerned. Jack shook his head simply.  


“It’s fine, Katherine. There ain’t no need t’worry about it. We’s is gonna win. Trust me,” he gave her a smile, nudging her arm gently before kissing her cheek. They walked down the sidewalk, discussing what on Earth their next move would be. There were a few options, and a rally seemed to be the most popular one. All they had to do now was ask the boys back at the Lodge house, and see if the other newsies across New York would come on out. Damned Spot.  


It had officially passed into night; the buildings forming dark shadows against the pavement, the ghosts of hooves down the streets echoed against the walls, and the two were still hand in hand. However, at one point, Katherine stopped, turning to him.  


“I still have that picture.”  


Jack looked perplexed. “What picture…?”  
“The one you drew. At the theatre?” Oh, _that_ picture.  


“You do? That was ah… just, had nothin’ else to draw,” he tried to blow it off. That was awkward, in his mind. Sure he’d given it to her, but he’d also drawn her without her knowledge at the time.  


“It was sweet. I think you should draw me again, you’ve got a gift,” she praised him and took his hand once more, though they’d since stopped walking. He shook his head.  


_You’re really good,_ he thought, David’s words in his head now. “Maybe. I don’t really draw people all that much.”  


“I think you should do it more.” A quick kiss, a simple goodbye, and she was off, saying that she had to get home before it got too late. Evidently, her father was a bit stern when it came to things such as that. So, Jack walked the rest of the way home, his thoughts occupied once more by the two that he’d now gotten involved with. Upon entering the Lodge house, he heard frantic shouts, mostly wondering who the hell was coming inside. Feet bounded down the creaking stairs, before coming to a halt.  


_“Jack!”_ A chorus of kids shouted jovially, running over to him and hugging him tightly, followed by ‘ow’s and multitudes of apologies as the family rejoiced. He felt many hands messing up his hair, everyone hugging him as he tried to keep a stoic expression. He broke, though, laughing and shaking his head.  


“You guys ain’t gettin’ rid o’ me that easy,” he teased. “Alright careful I didn’t get a free pass from Snyder in there.” The group stepped back enough to give him room, and the room warmed with the smiles everyone held.  


“Did’ya see Crutchie in there?”  


“How’d you get out?”  


“Are you okay?”  


Even more questions than Jack had been willing to answer. Granted, most of the answers were a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. “David and Katherine got me outta there,” was the one exception.  


“Who was in charge while I was gone, huh?” He asked, more curious than anything. Race, Finch, and Specs stepped forward, followed by Albert who garnered a few snickers.  


“We did, Jack. Finch an’ Specs kept everyone heads on their shoulders, an’ me an’ Albert kept your spirit alive,” Race detailed, earning a snort from Jack, before an approving nod.  


“Thanks, kid. Wouldn’t have it any other way. But ah, it’s gettin’ late, an’ I am still out of it,” he said, understanding remarks coming from the rest. Half of them looked like they were trying to stay awake themselves. They retired to their respective rooms, and Jack could only stare at the ceiling as he laid in bed. It was quiet without Crutchie, and cold without David. Despite being in a packed house, he felt lonely. His body gave all at once, and Jack fell into a deep sleep, to the sound of crickets outside the window.  


The next morning, scattered rays of light came into the room, and the hustle of kids moving around the house stirred him some. However, it was the quiet rapping at his door that had him sitting up, wide awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks. Apologies again for inconsistency. However, I’m pleased to announce that:  
> 1.) I have a set ending for this work  
> 1.5.) Take the word ‘set ending’ with a grain of salt ;)  
> 2.) There will be a plot twist coming up  
> 3.) This work will be fifteen chapters long


	12. Mondes Loin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Careful planning and less than careful words.

“Jack? It’s me,” came David’s smooth voice, something that quelled the nerves that were beginning to rise in him. He didn’t exactly have reason to be nervous; the boys woke him up all the time. Maybe he was paranoid. Definitely paranoid.  


“I’m comin’,” he replied slowly, dragging himself out of bed and opening the door for the boy, who smiled at the sight of a bedraggled Jack.  


“You said yesterday I could ‘stop by’ if I wanted to. The folks are tryin’ t’see how Les’ arm is doing. I think it’s healing fine. So does Sarah. I didn’t have much else to do, and Les kept sayin’ he wanted to know how _you_ were. He’s waitin’ for a story about the Refuge,” David smiled and raised an eyebrow, Jack shaking his head some.  


“Davey, that place ain’t one where you’s is gonna get fairy tale endings. I know, I know I told him stories ‘bout it before. An’ he’s just gonna have to stick to those ones. This time wasn’t as easy, there ain’t no good story to tell. ‘Cept for me seein’ Scraps again, but that’s about it.” There was an air of finality to Jack’s words, a somber film covering them thinly, and diffusing any further questions about it. David knew when to stop, anyways. He sat on Jack’s bed, looking at the other before taking off his hat. Jack turned to him then, blue eyes lit up as he remembered what he’d discussed with Katherine.  


“Say, whaddya think of a rally?”  


“A rally?”  


Jack nodded. “With all the newsies across New York. We get that in the papes? Pulitzer an’ Hearst ain’t gonna know what hit ‘em. We got Queens, an’ Richmond, an’ Spot ain’t gonna turn his nose now, he had to’ve heard what happened. A rally’ll get their attention, an’ show ‘em we means business,” he explained, David looking surprised for a minute before nodding.  


“That’s… a really good idea, actually. There’s thousands of us. There’s no way they won’t know about it. And we can ask for the theatre!”  


“Medda would let us, I know it. So, we just gotta tell the boys, and then get t’plannin’.” With that, Jack started to move towards the door. David tilted his head and followed him, grabbing his hand smoothly. It stopped them both. With a small smile, David left a kiss on Jack’s temples, whose smile formed before faltering; wavering like water blown by wind.  


“What’s wrong?”  


“What’re you talkin’ about? Nothin’s wrong, let’s just get goin’.”  


“No… something’s wrong. What is it?”  


Jack turned to him, a look of exasperation across his features. “I said nothin’s wrong… I just–” His words stopped as he thought; nothing was necessarily _wrong_ , but to say that everything was ‘right’ was just not true. The whole ordeal that was Jack and Katherine, and yes, Jack and David, was sending the shorter brunet in spirals. He couldn’t tell what he wanted. Dating Katherine would be easier. No one would say a word about it, except that maybe a street rat such as himself shouldn’t be dating someone who appeared to be well-off. There was just the issue that Jack felt differently towards the girl. The connection was superficial. Jack and Katherine had only met days prior to the feelings being developed, and they didn’t see each other often enough to keep any sort of sustaining bond up. Staying with only David could be a nightmare, though. They were _boys_. Such a thing was so frowned upon that he couldn’t even fathom them staying safely together. But… David felt right, and that stirred up unease in Jack. Their relationship had formed; there was a connection, and it was deep-seated. Jack took a shallow breath before returning his gaze to David.  


“I don’t know if I can do this, Davey,” he mumbled. There was no strength to his voice. It was hollow, and edged with gravel. Jack couldn’t keep himself from sounding nervous, not with the pained countenance that haunted David’s face.  


“I’m sorry, what…?”  


“I don’t know if I – if _we_ can keep doin’ this. This is _dangerous._ You don’t see other boys goin’ around an’ holdin’ hands an’ kissin’ do you? No. It ain’t safe.”  


“You talk about this bein’ dangerous as if we aren’t on strike. We’ll just have to be careful, that’s all. No one… no one will know if we’re careful. We’ve done fine so far, Jackie–”  


“It hasn’t even been a week, David! Who’s t’say we even make it past one!”  


He didn’t mean it. Not in the way he’d said it at least; he didn’t think they were at fault, he thought the strains that came with keeping it hidden would be too much. That they’d let it slip and they would be dead before the next week was over.  


David stood up a little straighter, his jaw squared, as he nodded. Not a word passed his lips as he moved towards Jack who flinched, fearing the worst. Firm hands, hands he wanted to hold and had only felt as solicitous, gripped his shoulders, moving him from the threshold before he exited himself, shutting the door behind him. He walked out…? Jack stood unmoving as he stared at the door. David was leaving. The thought spurred him into motion, boots stomping down the stairs in a frenzy as he hurried out the front door, and nearly falling over a sitting David.  


“Davey–! Why’re you sittin’ here? I thought you was leavin’...” he spoke slowly, already treading dangerous waters. David didn’t look at him, instead occupied himself by twirling a few weeds that had begun to sprout up from cracks in the sidewalk.  


“I didn’t want t’leave, Jack. I wanted t’see if you’d come after me. For someone who is worried about us getting caught or this ending in a week, you’re awful fast to come back to me.” The slight smile was noticeable in his tone. It was a sort of test. Jack couldn’t believe it, but then again, he didn’t expect much different from the other – save for him being genuinely upset.  


“Davey– I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it how it sounded. I meant it like… like there’d be too much pressure an’ we’d end up goin’ separate ways, or we’d get caught an’ have our asses kicked ‘til we can’t walk no more. People kill people like us, you know that ‘cause you’re the smart one of us two,” he nudged David’s shoulder.  


“I’m not goin’ to leave just because things get difficult. I know you might want to–” He gave Jack a warning look as the boy began to interrupt, effectively stopping him, “–but we are goin’ to be okay. The boys aren’t going to do anything if they see. They’re family. They trust you just as much as you them. This wouldn’t change anything…”  


Jack twiddled his thumbs; David was experienced in proving him wrong, and always being right. He nodded, looking at his partner with a drawn out sigh. “Does this mean we can go back inside an’ just relax some more? ‘Cause I don’t really like bein’ woken up an’ then arguing.” David let out a hushed chuckle, biting his lip and nodding as the pair stood and walked back inside. Their make-up did not stop him, though, from flicking Jack lightly against the side of his head, with the excuse that it was deserved. Jack grumbled the rest of the way upstairs.  


“So, this rally. You really think Spot’ll show?”  


“Course he is. He has to. We showed him we ain’t gonna back down from no fight. An’ if that little wharf rat don’t show there’ll be issues,” Jack commented, David quirking an eyebrow.  


“You aren’t afraid of anything, are you?”  


“You can be an idiot, Jackie.” His voice was like honey, then, words dripping with sweet adoration for the quick tempered boy. Jack paused in his sulking to look at him, taking a few steps closer and hugging him. David’s chin rested in the mess of brown hair as he returned the embrace, hearing Jack mumble an apology once again. “It’s okay, Jack.”  


“Yeah, yeah. Guess now we’s is really goin’ for this whole rally thing. I’ll have t’tell Race an’ Specs or whoever to get the other newsies on board.”  


“A rally?” David started, Jack looking up at him with a confused expression. “I thought we were just having a less than fancy party with a lot of angry teenagers.”  


“Davey you wouldn’t even _come_ to a party.”  


David paused with a nod. “You’ve got a point.”  


“Again… I’m sorry for bein’ some jerk an’ everythin’,” Jack said suddenly, a sincere look in his eyes.  


“When aren’t you?” David replied, a grin forming as Jack hit him with his cap.  


_“Davey!”_  


“I’m kiddin’, Jackie. A little revenge. Just, move–” He hummed, Jack doing as he was asked for half a second as they moved over to sit on his bed. The two hardly even removed themselves from their embrace, Jack hiding his face against David’s shoulder.  


“I don’t want you leavin’ like that again… I thought you wasn’t comin’ back. Sometimes it’s like you’s is a million worlds away, an’ no matter how hard I try I can’t reach you. An’ if you leave, I ain’t gonna get you back. Davey I know I don’t think things through, but I care about you. Way too much t’just let you go, or to try an’ leave myself, I’m tellin’ you.”  


The vulnerability in his once steady tone provided David with the chance to leave a trail of kisses along Jack’s hairline, hugging him with an almost crushing force now.  


“Nothing’s gonna come between us, I promise. I… I won’t leave unless it’s with you,” David assured him, lacing their fingers together and noting just how cold Jack’s hands were. He leaned closer, whispering to the boy;  


“And, just so y’know, we can’t be worlds away, because you are my world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter. Brace yourself.


	13. Feu Ravageur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentimentality is a curse to the hopeless lover that is Jack Kelly.

A rally, as Jack had learned, was _very_ hard to pull off. Securing their venue took no time, Medda happier than ever to provide the theatre for the event. Getting the rest of the newsies to show was what those of Lower Manhattan were worried about. They had the support of the newsies across the state, yet all were waiting with bated breath, once again, for the ‘okay’ from Brooklyn. A few days into waiting, and the boy of the Lodge House were getting tired of hearing Jack complaining about the static silence.  


“Aye, I know it ain’t great, but he said he’d come when we’s put up a fight,” Race said around the cigar in his mouth, shooting Jack an almost warning look. The other boy scoffed, just hoping that his friend was right. Their hope really was pegged on Spot Conlon. Jack didn’t like the sound of that.  


The entirety of the day, all the newsies across Lower Manhattan worked on setting up the theatre, getting the word out to the closer cities, and praying that they saw Brooklyn in their midsts. Albert returned from Queens, Romeo from Flushing, still the same as before. Good ol’ Spot had to get moving. Jack made note of a few curious reporters, to whom he didn’t answer to, too busy with organising the rally. That deterred most, except for Katherine, who made her appearance and wrote down everything she saw.  


A _‘dink’_ drew people’s eyes towards the fire escapes of nearby buildings, cheers following suite. The smug grin was hard to miss.  


“Never fear, boys! Brooklyn’s here!” Spot Conlon’s voice rang through the street, more cheers filling the air as the sight of his troupe joined him, and soon enough, hundred of thousands of newsies flooded the streets. Jack spotted David, who looked like a deer in headlights amongst the sea of kids, and grabbed his hand, pulling him up to the fire escape and looking over all the newsies. Towns were still filing in, Jack worried they wouldn’t be able to fit into the theatre. He tried getting their attention, time and time again, before David shouted:  


“Newsies of New York!” Slow silence formed, and David felt all eyes on him, scratching the back of his neck. Jack interjected then, his hands raised so as to keep them all at bay.  


“Thank you’s for comin’ our here t’day! An’ thanks Spot. We’ve been waitin’ on Brooklyn,” he said, the smaller boy nodding some.  


“Yeah, well, we’s heard that you an’ some o’ your boys got yourselves locked up durin’ a brawl. Takes guts kid. Proved you was in it t’win,” was his reply, along with a punch to Jack’s shoulder. The three looked down, everyone captivated as they awaited the next call.  


“Newsies! Into the theatre!” Jack commanded with ease, and watched those below burst into the building vivaciously, still hooting and hollering by the time their leaders entered the building and stood up on the stage. Jack spotted Katherine in the far back, but didn’t pay much attention to the figure. Right now was about the newsies next move.  


“Alright, look where we are. We started a few weeks ago, angry, ‘cause Pulitzer an’ Hearst think they’s can just run ‘round pickin’ our pockets whenever they feel like. But we ain’t gonna let ‘em do that. We work hard— day in an’ day out, earnin’ pennies that can’t hardly feed us for the night, an’ we don’t complain about nothin’!” Shouts of agreement filled the air, urging Jack to continue. “All we ask ‘em for, is a square deal! No— no spiked prices for the same amount o’ papes! We are the backbone o’ this state, of their businesses! Without us they’ll crumble, an’ come beggin’ for us to come back to work! An’ we ain’t gonna do that ‘til they set the price right back where it was, amirite!?” He exclaimed, the rallying cries of furious kids filled the theatre. Jack looked, for the most part, satisfied, raising his hands once more to silence the crowd.  


“Spot told me somethin’ real important when I went t’ask him to join us. He told me an’ Davey that this strike ain’t some game of truth or dare. He said he wouldn’t show unless we showed we wasn’t gonna run when things got too difficult. He was right. This strike we’s is runnin’? It’s dangerous. The bulls already locked up Crutchie, an’ a few of the rest of us. They even got me. But we wasn’t gonna run away when we saw ‘em comin’. We fought. Hell, even Crutchie fought back, soakin’ ‘em with his crutch before they beat him with it. We can’t run away from this just ‘cause we get scared. We’s is kids. We can be scared, an’ I know a lot o’ you are. But we is more powerful than they think… we ain’t gonna let ‘em stomp all over us. We are gonna fight back! We will show them who’s boss!” The fire in Jack’s eyes was blazing bright hot, David beaming as he watched the entire theatre swell with the din of the angry kids. Boys and girls alike hollered and stomped their feet, chanting ‘strike’ in unison. He saw Katherine in the background, scribbling something with a wide smile on her own face. From near her, a flash went off at the best possible moment. Hundreds of fists were raised, including the ones of those on stage. The energy in the room was intoxicating. Teens and kids, drunk with the rampant idea of rebellion, starry eyes and ones filled with fire like Jack’s. David found himself screaming just as loud as the rest, chanting and waving his fist as he hugged Jack, who took the opportunity to mess up his hair. Everything was looking up — Jack could’ve sworn that he felt like he was floating.  


  


The rally proved to be a massive success; the boys would move mountains, Katherine often thought. This would make the front page of every paper, and the picture would only capture the vivacity the swarm of youths held as they demanded change.  


She’d left the rally early to get ahead of the crowds that were sure to fill the streets. She wanted to talk to Jack on his own, to grasp what he could’ve possibly been feeling as he inspired the masses. Her travels brought her back to the Lodge House, where she wandered up the flights of stairs to the rooftop, where she learned Jack liked to hide out. The night air was welcoming for once; as if nature finally realised that it was nearing mid-summer, and decided to warm itself up. She looked around for a place to sit, smoothing down her skirt and sitting atop a stacked pile of crates. Her notebook sat folded in her lap, and as she went to review what she’d written, her pencil fell from its spot behind her ear, onto the surface below her feet.  


She knelt over to retrieve it, when her doe eyes caught sight of something seemingly hidden beneath her ‘seat’. Carefully, she rose, taking hold of the papers and pulling them out to examine them. One was an old newspaper, leading her to think nothing of it before she saw a familiar face scribbled on the back of it. David.  


The likeness was incredible, and there was only one person she knew to be able to draw that well. And given her surroundings, the answer was obvious. She’d be impressed by his poetic endearments, evidently towards the both of them, but she did not like where it could lead for them. Carefully, she stuck the papers in her purse, and went back inside. David and Jack were walking up towards his room, both still glowing with eagerness to win, before she smiled at them. Jack knew something was off.  


“Hello boys. I came by to talk to you about the rally, I just wanna get your own separate opinions. Confidentially. It’s going on the record, after all,” she waved her notebook in the air, before nodding at David. “Can we use your room, Jack?” She asked, the boy obliging without any opposition as the two walked into the room.  


Katherine waited until she heard his footsteps travel down the hall, noting that they’d gone upstairs. Of course they had. She locked the door and turned to David, who furrowed his brow.  


“Katherine, what’s going on.?”  


“Apparently, there’s a lot of news that goes unnoticed by me,” she started, fishing around her purse for the drawing. She handed it over to David, who took it, his cheeks flushing. “‘Worlds away,’ mountains and oceans and fire? Did you know about this?” She asked, David shaking his head as he read the poem.  


“I’ve never even _seen_ these… why’re you—…” He looked at her, realising what it meant. Jack liked both of them, and Katherine was now angry because he was _dating_ both of them at the same time. “Oh…” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Before he knew what was happening next, Katherine called Jack back downstairs, unlocking the door and taking the papers from David’s grasp. Jack walked in, all smiles still as he tried to disarm the tension.  


“How’d your interview go? Got what y’needed? We’s is gonna be on the front page, ain’t we?” He asked, letting out a half hearted chuckle, before noticing just how cold Katherine’s gaze was. “What’s the matter?”  


He’d seen that his papers were missing. He figured maybe the wind had blown them away, or that they had gotten lost somewhere on the roof under all he and Crutchie’s junk. He didn’t want to think that Katherine had found them, or David, for that matter. He found them once more as Katherine held them up, both she and David looking straight at him. His heart fell into a hollow stomach.  


“Guys, Kath— I can explain. This ain’t… I drew _you_ ,” he gestured to the girl, whose arms had crossed over her chest. “I just don’t get to practice all that much. I ain’t gonna go an’ draw one o’ the boys when they’s is sleepin’ or somethin’. I just drew Davey ‘cause I needed— I needed t’—” He felt sick. He knew very well he was lying, and that neither of his partners had believed him. His chest felt like it was twisting, tightening so much that he could hardly breathe. “Alright! So’s I drew both o’ you, an’ I wrote a poem. Can’t a guy just muse a little?” He asked, voice thin from trying to keep it steady.  


“Muse a little? Jack this poem isn’t just some random spur of inspiration, it’s a _confession!_ David and I, you like both of us!” Katherine exclaimed, Jack shushing her.  


“Hey, hey! Keep it down would you? I don’t need the whole country knowin’.”  


Katherine scoffed. “Why? Why keep it a secret from us? I couldn’t care less about who you’re so inclined to, but I’d at least like to _know._ ” 

“Alright I know, it ain’t fair, an’ I’m sorry for not sayin’ nothin’ to either of you’s. But please, _please_ , we can work it out. There ain’t gonna be no more secrets between us, I promise you,” he pleased with them both, David looking far more sympathetic than the girl.  


“I thought you were different, Jack Kelly. That… that despite being this… cocky, skirt chasing, son of a bitch, you were going to be the one. That you really felt something special towards me…” She said, voice soft, trembling with hurt. Jack seemed to break at that.  


“I do, I _do._ Katherine, you are somethin’ special. Both o’ you are… you both make me feel somethin’...” he tried desperately, but he couldn’t even convince himself that Katherine meant the same to him as David, who’d opted to stay quiet until Katherine left.  


“God! If I weren’t a girl you wouldn’t be feeling anything except for my fist.” She seemed to contemplate her words, if only for a moment, before Jack tried again to bargain with her. A stunned silence befell the room as her palm came into contact with his cheek. Her eyes widened, lips parting in shock. “Jack—…” She began, then shook her head. The door opened and closed, the papers fluttering to the floor as she tossed them behind her. David began to move towards the door himself, as if to go after her, before Jack gripped his sleeve.  


“Davey, please don’t— don’t leave. I am sorry for that, I-I just didn’t… didn’t want to lose either of you’s, an’ now she’s gone an’ you aren’t sayin’ anything and I can’t lose both o’ you just ‘cause I did somethin’ stupid. I care ‘bout both o’ you, but… you. I care about you just a little more, an’ I don’t know why, but I don’t hate it. I ain’t afraid of it no more, but if you leave—” He rambled, noticing that they were now on the floor. David’s hands were gentle on his shoulders, rubbing his arm as he tried to calm him down. Jack was shaking, hiccuping through his words and wheezing out others. His world felt like it was crashing around him, hurtling swiftly, steadily out of orbit. His mind was hazy, his heart racing. David pulled him into a hug, tight and grounding. He wasn’t angry. Perplexed at first, but he wasn’t surprised, either. Jack had too big a heart for just one person, yet it hurt as though his whole heart broke.  


“Jackie, look at me, okay? I need you t’look at me…” David spoke slowly, calm brown eyes meeting the skittish blue. “You… you can’t control who you love, or when. Sure, it surprised me at first but only because I guess I wasn’t expecting it. You’ve got so much to give, just one person can’t receive it all. I’m not hurt. I’m not angry with you or anythin’, I still feel the same. And I know, that has to _hurt_...” He nodded towards the closed door. “But I’m not leaving, an’ I’ll do what I can to make you feel better. Right now, just… quiet,” he whispered, rubbing his back, playing with his hair, doing everything he can to keep Jack grounded. He tried to think of what his mother did to calm his brother down when he was upset, scrunching his nose before quietly trying to carry a tune for the other. Jack looked up at him, hands shaking but his expression almost comically confused.  


“Just listen…” David informed him, knowing that if he sang slow enough, or even hummed slowly, the other boy could focus on the tune, and calm down even a little. Every once in a while, David would stop in his song, murmuring gently to Jack in a language the boy didn’t really know. He later learned it was French. By the time Jack finally relaxed, the ruckus in the rest of the house had died down. Silence. Jack groaned quietly as he came to his senses, his head falling into the palms of his hands.  


“Y’know, I thought you said you weren’t any good at drawing people,” David teased lightly, before clearing his throat. “An’ I remember you sayin’ you wrote poems… this one’s really good, Jackie.” The smile on his face was radiant.  


“Thanks, Davey… clearly she didn’t think so. Now she’s gone, an’ I feel damn awful,” Jack muttered, raking his fingers through his hair. David shook his head.  


“Not necessarily. She never said she was gonna break up with you…”  


“She slapped me, Davey.”  


“Okay— Okay so that wasn’t a great sign, but I think things’ll work out…” There was a pause before he spoke once more. “You described me as a mountain, why?”  


“Doubt it… an’ one, your eyes. They’s is brown but they’s is full of somethin’ else. An’ you’re strong, Davey. You really are. A force t’be reckoned with. Plus when we first met you was as stubborn as some rock. That’s why I wrote that one part— with the rock turnin’ t’sand. I sorta felt like I was breakin’ down some o’ those walls, but no matter what you was still you, an’ there’s this… attractiveness to your power. Katherine’s hair. She was fire. An’ I got my eyes so, the ocean. A bunch o’ art stuff y’know?” He rambled, David looking stunned.  


“You… really put a lot of thought into that. And you wrote it so, beautifully. I can’t see why anyone would be mad. Everything was working so well together in the poem,” he whispered, stroking Jack’s dark hair, who scrunched his nose. People analysing his work wasn’t something he was used to. But David seemed to do it with ease, and grace.  


“Oh… you an’ your fancy words.” Jack looked up at him, their eyes meeting with a new layer between them. There was an understanding that just wasn’t there prior to that night. David cupped his cheek, their lips meeting gently. They leaned into one another, hands holding onto shirts, moving through hair. Jack’s touch was far more desperate than his counterparts. Soft exchanges filled their ears, and the floor beneath them was incredibly uncomfortable, enough for them to transfer to the bed. Limbs locked together as they embraced, Jack being the one to initiate it. David was happy to oblige, holding him to his chest and resting his chin atop his head.  


“It’ll be okay, Jackie… I promise.”  


“If you say so, Davey…”  


The day had gone by in a flash, and as sleep brought a welcome darkness, Jack could only hope that tomorrow wouldn’t arrive just as fast.


	14. Le Feu Se Termine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flames of love can, evidently, die out far faster than anyone imagined. Especially when met by a wave.

Commotion downstairs woke both Jack and David from their slumber. Neither made quite any effort in making themselves wholly presentable, and neither bothered to tease the other – save for David, who took the opportunity to ruffle Jack’s hair further, before the other flicked him in his forehead. Small smirks adorned each of their expressions, and the pair set off down the winding stairs, peeking their heads around the corner and seeing the newsies going this way and that, tossing clothes and hats at one another. Even without work, their routine hadn’t swayed much. The only difference was the obvious; no one went to work. Jack scratched the back of his head and yawned as Albert nudged Race, who was grinning brightly, practically glowing.  


“What did _you_ dream about, huh? A pretty girl?” He teased, a crooked smirk fixed on his face.  


“Oh yeah, Albert, a pretty girl,” he paused, raising an eyebrow and looking at the red head. “Prettiest girl in all o’ Brooklyn.”  


Albert snorted, playfully punching his arm a few times as the other swatted at him. “Alright Racer, you go an’ follow your dreams.”  


“Oh I will, they ain’t that hard t’reach. Let’s just say my standards ain’t too high,” he retorted, placing his cigar between his teeth and grinning around it. A few of the newsies laughed at his comment, shaking their heads. Specs and Elmer went around, handing out some stale slices of bread, and whatever other food they could find in the place, Jack handing his own off to one of the others before wiping his hands together to rid them of the crumbs. David noticed this and put his own hands in his pockets, having given his own food away. He had meals at home, he didn’t need to take anything away from these kids. He hasn’t really stayed enough in the place to see its inner workings — for all he knew they had stashed good food under the floorboards. Though, he really hadn’t expected that much, this was more to what he imagined. Scraps, stale food, rationing. His eyes fell to his feet as he watched everything unfold, as though ashamed to bear witness to their routine.  


“Usually the nuns give us coffee an’ stuff. We don’t see them ‘round much no more,” said Elmer, slowly getting through his half a slice of bread.  


“They’s is probably worried about us though, they tried gettin’ this one into church about a dozen times,” Henry added, snorting. “The only time you’ll see ‘em in there is if it’s snowin’ or rainin’.”  


Their banter was oddly welcoming. They didn’t seem trodden by their misfortunes, instead, they seemed invigorated. The boys spirits were raised even further after the events of the rally — some of the youngest ones could be seen standing on the arms of the tattered couch doing their best at reciting Jack’s speech, and whatever they couldn’t remember, they replaced with enthused yelling. The older boys had fire in their veins, ready to to win the war that had been waged on them. They hardly even seemed worried anymore, though that could easily have been adrenaline.  


Jack, however, appeared down. Not entirely, but the exuberance that he usually displayed after something exciting happened just wasn’t there. The newsies made note of this but did nothing to ask about it. It didn’t help that he didn’t look upset. He _looked_ fine, it was just beneath the surface that things seemed wrong. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. That’s what the rest of the newsies were used to – along with Jack not taking that advice, and hardly ever opening up to them unless it involved them, (he didn’t like bthering them). The din in the room began to swell, something prompting a curious energy throughout the room. A hand came to Jack’s arm, tugging on his sleeve to get his attention.  


“Aye, Jack. What ah… what d’we do now…?” Romeo asked, his head cocked to the side and his ususal smile on his face. Echoes of this sounded through the room, the boys clamouring over one another in vain attempts at being heard. Jack lifted his hands to quiet them, unable to keep himself from laughing as he looked over them, then glanced back to David. The noise didn’t stop, instead their voices grew louder as newsies began shouting ideas.  


“What if we set the wagons on fire?” Albert suggested, looks of confusion and whatever look they always gave the redhead at his ideas.  


“Who asked _you_?” They asked in unison, earning a disgruntled scofff from the boy.  


“We ain’t settin’ no wagons on fire,” Jack began, getting their attention. “We gotta do somethin’ _bigger…_ ” That got them interested. Whoever wasn’t paying attentino before was now. Something bigger than arson? What could he mean? Jack’s hand moved behind him, grabbing David’s arm and pulling him beside him before he wrapped an arm around his shoulders.  


“We gotta talk to the man upstairs, Pulitzer.”  


Murmurs filled the brief silence, David leaning closer to him. “By ‘we’, do you mean us in general, or you and me?” Jack grinned as he turned his head his way, patting his back.  


“You an’ me pal. I ain’t gonna bring a whole battalion with us. Maybe,” he considered it for a moment as teh rest of teh newises went back to talking, a few looking at the pair in front of them as if for a further explanation. Jack turned towards David, who looked back, then sighed, quickly coming up with the skeleton of a plan.  


“Alright, so… we have to talk to Pulitzer. He has to’ve heard what’s been going on. If he didn’t listen to us before, he has to now. Jack and I can talk to him–”  


“Why you two?” One kid asked and crossed his arms, Jack raising an eyebrow.  


“‘Cause I’m the president of this union, an’ Davey was the one who suggested strikin’ in the first place,” was his reply, arms crossed as though he dared anyone to counter his claim. No one did, and he nodded firmly, messing up David’s hair once more before smiling. “We’re gonna show him that we means business, got it? He’ll listen.” His voice was sure, not a scrap of hesitation to it. The boys needed that confidence from him, because if he showed he was afraid now? There was no telling how many would reconsider following him.  


“An’ if he doesn’t?” One asked, crossing his arms. Jack’s eyes met his, and he cocked his head. Taking a few steps towards him, he spoke up:  


“We’ll make him.”  


  


David was apprehensive of their plan. Pulitzer had eyes on every street corner, and probably the same amount of guards. Plus, he wasn’t fond of either of the boys. _Any_ of the boys, for that matter. Walking down the street, David felt his heart beating faster with each step. A few times he had to pick up the pace just to keep up with Jack, who hadn’t slowed down in his journey to The World since they left the Lodge House. A million things could go wrong. They could be taken in by cops, sent off to the Refuge, beaten up by the Delanceys. They could – see Katherine…? Jack turned his head towards David, who had finally caught up to him, and furrowed his brow. Beneath the uncertainty that washed over his face, was trepidation. Jack almost looked like he didn’t want to go any further. But, they coninued on, Katherine finally noticing them. She looked just as worried as them both, too.  


“Aye… what ah, what is you doin’ here?” Jack asked her as they approached, head tilted. She’d told them way back that she worked at The Sun. Wasn’t hanging around The World a conflict of interest? He recalled her doing the same in their first encounter at Jacobi’s; her excuse being that she was ‘following a story.’ Katherine cleared her throat, her stare gravitating towards the stairs of the building, then back to the figures in front of it.  


“I’m–”  


“Oh! _This_ is the infamous Mr.Kelly that you’ve been telling me so much about isn’t it, dear?” Came the voice of Pulitzer, who looked over the boys with a calculated grin. “How odd, I was just _hoping_ he’d stop by at some point.” 

_“Dear?”_ Jack breathed, incredulous. A cold laugh left Pulitzer, who nodded and placed a heavy hand on Katherine’s shoulder. The girl seemed to cringe at the contact, eyes falling down to the pavement beneath her feet.  


“Yes, Mr.Kelly. This is my _daughter_ , Katherine. And, she tells me that you… broke her heart, is that right? Because of an _affair_? I don’t take kindly do that, young man,” he droned on, Jack shaking his head and glancing at David.  


“Yeah? An’ we don’t take kindly t’you jackin’ up our prices for papes. You’ve seen the headlines. You’ve seen it all. Your papes ain’t sellin’, _no one’s_ gettin’ your news now. What’s your next move, huh?” He asked, taunting him without much regard for the possible consequence of such. The words pushed back Pulitzer’s preposterous calm demeanour, giving way for a scowl as he took a few steps towards Jack. The boy moved closer — that is, he tried to, before David intervened and pulled him away. The force was a bit stronger than he’d anticipated, but it worked.  


_“Jack,_ ” he started, shaking his head, “you can’t go around buttin’ heads with everyone. It’s like everywhere you go someone wants the punch you in the face. I’d be concerned if I didn’t know you as a person.” David crossed his arms. “We are supposed to be _civil,_ talk this out and everythin’ instead of grabbing at each other’s throats.” The statement earned a growl from Jack, who reluctantly backed away, still glaring at Pulitzer. The only difference was that now, Pulitzer seemed a bit set off, though, in a different way. A slip up seemed to’ve occurred. David even noticed his nerves when he eyed the pair, before he headed inside with a slammed door. Jack sighed and shook his head in despair.  


“Davey! I coulda had him!” He cried, David shaking his own head and pointing towards the door.  


“Did you see that?”  


“See what?”  


“The look on his face! He — He was _scared._ Hs knows we’re winning. He’s got so many things to worry about now, poor guy’s head is spinning,” he cracked an almost smile, Jack furrowing his brow.  


“Right, Davey. He was scared. C’mon, we’s got business to talk about,” he replied, casting a glance towards Katherine who stopped them before they even got the chance to walk away. The panic in her eyes was pitiful, almost. David felt bad, for sure. Not as bad, though, when he remembered the argument she’d had with Jack that was over him, essentially. How she slapped him and left without an apology. He turned to face her as Jack did, both of them crossing their arms. When he received a look, David fixed his position, instead placing his hands in his pockets. Another look, and a nod from Jack, and David sighed, taking a few steps away to give them some privacy.  


Katherine began with a sharp, shaking inhale, closing her eyes to regain her self control, before she looked at Jack. “I’m sorry… for last night and everything. I had _no_ right to slap you, and maybe I should’ve listened to you more than I did—”  


Jack interjected immediately, an aura of hope radiating off of him. “So we’s is okay?” Katherine glanced down then right back at him, expression hard to read.  


“We’re fine on our own.”  


“What…?”  


“Jack I can’t _do_ this. I’m sorry. I don’t want to sound like.. like a narcissist, or the bad guy or anything like that, but I just want to be the one that you focus all your attention on. It Isn't that I don't like you, or even David for that matter, but I want something that I can believe in, something that’ll be my happy ending… I want us _both_ to be happy, so let’s just leave it at that. You dream about happy endings, don’t you?” She asked, Jack thinking over all the times he’d brought up his plans to head to Santa Fe, stoic for a moment.  


“Yeah, yeah I do…” He nodded. Katherine looked like she wanted to hug him, or do something to finalise her apology, and to make him feel better, but instead she looked away. With a curt nod, she turned and went right back into the building. With her father.  


The expression on Jack’s face was nearly as hard to read now as Katherine’s had been during the majority of the pair’s conversation. He turned towards David, who had started to walk over to him the moment Katherine began walking away. Jack scuffed the toe of his shoe along the sidewalk, refusing to look up at David. He wasn’t sad. No, him sad was when Crutchie was taken. Sad was when he realised that he loved both David and Katherine. Sad was when he came to terms with the fact that he loved David more. Instead, he just looked down in all senses. Davey placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him a little with one of his usual awkward smiles.  


“C’mon, Jackie. Why don’t we… go to Jacobi’s? Maybe we can get somethin’ to eat?” The look on Jack’s face had him rolling his eyes with a defeated sigh. “Okay, maybe nothing big. I meant like a sandwich or something. Really I meant drinks. But if you’re gonna—”  


“Alright, Davey. We can go. Maybe Jacobi will give us somethin’ on the house. Doubt it, but it’s worth a shot ain’t it?” Jack said finally, David pausing before hugging him, then embarking to the restaurant. It wasn’t as crowded as it could’ve been on a Thursday, but then again, it didn’t seem like a whole lot of people were out that morning. Plus, Jacobi’s was far better at its dinners than breakfast. At least from what the boys had seen on the plates of diners as they walked by. David and Jack found themselves a seat towards the back, getting their waters, and even a cookie for them each that Jacobi claimed to be ‘harder than metal’. David took his, grabbing a few napkins and wrapping it up before placing it carefully back on the table. He had plans to share t with Les and Sarah.  


Jack looked at his own, breaking off a piece and gnawing on it but otherwise leaving it be. He knew Race had a sweet tooth, and so did Specs. He’d give it to them before he went to bed — otherwise the rest of the boys would be hollering for their own, and there were just too many of them. He didn’t say a word during the first few minutes they sat there, and David didn’t pressure him to do so. Instead, he sipped on his water, feeling a pair of eyes on them. He looked towards the darkest corner near them, and saw the silhouette of a man.  


Hunkered over his table, his arm at an awkward angle (from what David could see), a glass on the table, he seemed to be staring right at them. David pointed it out to Jack, who turned around without hesitation, and stood up, swiftly moving towards the man.  


“Hey, what’re you lookin’ at?” He asked, the man letting out a smoke shot laugh. Jack could smell it on his breath, along with whatever he was drinking.  


“You two. Ain’t you the boys that’re strikin’? ‘Bout the papes?” He asked, Jack looking over as David joined them. “You _are._ An’ you’re David. I know your father. He’s a nice guy, how’s he doin’ anyhow?” The man continued questioning them, David and Jack sharing a look at the man’s recognition.  


“How do you—” David started. Another laugh.  


“I worked at the trolleys. Now, who came up with the genius idea o’ bein’ a Union?” Jack and David pointed at one another, Jack speaking up.  


“He saids we couldn’t strike without one. I said we was one, an’ then he helped make it.” David didn’t argue with his explanation, the other man nodding. “Who’s you, anyways?”  


“The name’s George,” the man began, shaking each of their hands with his good one. “Like I said, I was workin’ with the trolleys. The strike put me outta work, just like your old man. Got my arm broke by one o’ the cops. Saids I was beatin’ on him. An’ the cops weren’t even the worst. Half of ‘em did nothin’. They just watched these two younger folk beat up on the workers like they’s was crooks or somethin’. They was brothers I think.” The boys knew immediately he was talking about Oscar and Morris, shaking their heads in sync. David piped up then.  


“Is it worth it? Striking?”  


The man sat in thought, scratching at the stubble on his weathered cheeks, before looking at them both earnestly. “From what I’ve seen you kids doin’ out in the square? I’d say damn well it is. You don’t win no war by retreating to safety. You lose men, you lose a lot o’ things. That’s just how it is. But in the long run, things work out.” Jack thought about that, then about Crutchie and the others that he’d lost to the Refuge before him. He nodded slowly.  


“Thanks, mista’,” he replied, the older of the three nodding slowly, finishing off the remnants of his drink before standing up, clapping both of them on the shoulder as he moved to leave. It wasn’t before the two boys heard the quiet ‘good luck’ that was said in passing, as though saying the words too loud would result in penalty.  


David and Jack returned to their own table, sipping their water and looking out the windows at the front of the restaurant. The sun seemed to have reached its peak by then, and had a relaxing effect on the kids. It was hard to be worried when the sun was finally bright like it should’ve been the past few days. Jack grabbed his cookie, wrapping it up like he’d seen David do, as his partner discussed leaving.  


“My folks are probably worried about me. Plus, I gotta get this to Les an’ Sarah,” David said as he held up his own treat, rising with Jack and exiting the restaurant. Another short excursion was fine with Jack. He’d have more time alone with Davey where he wasn’t sulking about his breakup with Katherine, thus helping get it out of his head even faster. He couldn’t even peg why he was acting the way he was; he hadn’t liked Katherine to the same caliber he had Davey. Even in the brief span of their relationship, Jack never felt entirely a strong connection between the two. It seemed forced, something that was done out of necessity. There was no effort to even fix things, really. He’d only panicked because he was _sure_ he loved them each the same. David began to talk about something entirely random, Jack hardly making out the word ‘rattlesnake’ in his sentence before his eyes locked on the Delancey brothers.  


They weren’t far away from them by a long shot, but they were occupied with some shoe shiner. A young one, too. Jack could see from here his red, calloused little feet, and the sweat marks on the back of his shirt. He also saw the tears in his eyes when Oscar snatched up the small box he’d supposedly been collecting his money it, holding it high above the boy’s head, before dropping it without any words, just a laugh that resembled a mangled hyena. Then, the pair began to walk down the sidewalk. Right towards David and Jack.  


Jack grabbed the boy’s sleeve, tugging him down an alley they’d passed a few moment prior, and covering his mouth. The footsteps drew nearer, came, then went. David stopped slapping at the boy’s hand when he realised why he’d pulled him away. Jack let go when he deemed the threat to be safely out of range, sighing. “Why the hell were you goin’ on about snakes?” He asked them, furrowing his brow. The shrug followed by an innocent smile had Jack taking off his cap and swatting it at David’s shoulder. That, and if Jack looked at it any longer, he’d melt a little. David was good at that.  


The remainder of the walk was far too short, given that the house could be seen from their hiding spot. David said his goodbyes and began to walk inside, before Jack grabbed his arm once again, bringing him close and pressing a kiss to his lips. It was far more forceful than any that David had initiated; though, it wasn’t in a bad way. It was a desperate sort of force, as though Jack were never going to see him again. David’s on the other hand began gentle, soft touches turning into firmer ones as time passed. Jack just went for it, and David wasn’t going to say he hated it. They drew back, David’s cheeks properly red as he looked at Jack. The other had a playful sort of grin fixed to his cheeks, though they were just as dark as David’s.  


The taller of the two couldn’t even get his words out. He brought his free hand up to readjust his shirt and vest, though neither of them had even been mussed in the action. Another soft goodbye, and he began to open the door. Jack looked at him, leaning against the wall as he let out a childish whine, groaning. He didn’t want Davey to leave right yet, even if he knew he had to.  


“Calm down you big baby,” David teased, flashing him a warm smile before shaking his head. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.” And with that, he stepped through the threshold and inside. Jack lingered for a moment, hearing excited shouts from Les, even from Sarah when David handed them each a piece of the cookie he’d brought home. It left a smile on Jack’s face, before he journeyed back to the Lodge House.  


The day went smoothly, even though Race was bored beyond compare, and a little pissed off at Albert, who’d hid his cigar, and couldn’t exactly remember _where._ As sunset approached, Jack and the rest of them decided to sleep downstairs, hogging couches and determining spots on the floor to sleep. They finally asked how the confrontation between them and Pulitzer went, and why Jack was so late to return home. Sitting up, he grabbed their attention.  


“Davey says Pulitzer’s scared of us. An’ you know what? I think he’s is right. I told him how none o’ his papes is gettin’ ‘round no more, asked him what he was gonna do. He just got all mad, but you could _see_ it, in plain sight. He was scared. An’ I was at Jacobi’s. Dave an’ I, we met George. He’s a trolley striker. Got his arm broke too. He says we’s is gonna do great. An’ I know, maybe it seems like we ain’t doin’ nothin’ cause we’s is layin’ around, not fightin’, not yellin’ in the streets or anythin’, but we’s makin’ Pulitzer scared. An’ I think _that_ is as good as anythin’. He ain’t gonna hold out much longer if we keeps this up,” he declared, a few shouts coming from the boys who’d begun to lay down, watching night creep through the windows without even realising it. One by one, they fell asleep, the prospect of them winning hanging over them as protection.


	15. La Montagne L’emporte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun falls slowly over the peak of the mountain.
> 
> Jack knows things are changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little warning for this last chapter: At the end of the chapter there’s gonna be a little bit of risqué content (a.k.a lots of touching) but nothing too in detail.

Throughout the days, each and every newsie worked alongside one another to devise their next attack. They’d spoken to Pulitzer, they cut off their paper circulation, and they fought their foes far more than they’d anticipated at the beginning of their strike. It wasn’t long (four days post the confrontation at The World) before they realised — they had to wait. That’s what it was now. Racetrack had met up with Spot over the weekend, the pair discussing how things were moving (or not moving, rather) in Brooklyn. Much to their relief, Spot claimed there to be hardly any papers leaving the distribution windows. Their plan was working, it seemed. Though, lying in wait was God awful. They had no idea what would come next. For all they knew, Pulitzer would come back with more reinforcement, send them all off to the Refuge for good. None of them wanted to imagine that happening, yet the threat lingered in the back of their minds.  


“Aye Race, what was it that Spot told you when y’visited?” Albert asked, a sort of playfulness in his voice. Race took one look at him, his eyebrows raised, before speaking around his cigar.  


“He told me ‘don’t let Albert say nothin’ stupid to ya,’ an’ then I saids, ‘then he can’t talk’.” Race grinned as Albert shoved him off of the stairs they sat on outside the building, cackling as he laid on the floor. No one asked Jack what he’d done at Davey’s. They all assumed they were working on the strike, devising their next attack. Plus, no one was going to question their leader so close to their victory. That wouldn’t do anyone any good. Jack and David _had_ spent a decent amount of time bickering about what they could do next, David being the one to convince Jack of the truth — they could only wait.  


Race went to ask Jack a question, something about what he was looking at. The boy’s gaze was pointed at something moving towards them, and soon enough, a majority of the newsies could make out the figure of none other than Katherine. Pulitzer. Jack stood up slowly, David looking up at him before back at Katherine, rising to his side. They couldn’t quite tell what, but the girl held _something_ in her hands, David trying to get a better look at it.  


“What’re you doin’ ‘ere? Ain’t you got work t’do with your father?” Jack asked, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the girl. “Thought you had somethin’ against me after you blabbed t’the man.” Katherine let out a sigh and shook her head.  


“No, I don’t have something against you, and I don’t hate you, or anything like that. We already discussed this, I said I want you happy— look, that’s not why I’m here.” The girl paused and took a breath, as if bracing herself. “I did some digging that night, not just with the drawing of… y’know.”  


Jack looked like he’d been hit, the betrayal on his face clear. “The hell d’you mean by _that_? You’re stealin’–” 

“I didn’t steal anything! I just saw it!”  


“Saw what?!”  


“Can you let me speak!”  


Jack, as well as most of the others who had been chattering amongst themselves, went quiet. For a second, there was only silence. Katherine let out a sigh, then continued speaking without interruption.  


“The drawings of the Refuge… they could make a world’s difference. From what I saw when we got you out of there… the rats, and the mold, and the whole set up of the place? It’s god awful in there… and from your first day on the strike, and the rally? I got notes. Pages and pages of things about you guys, but also the rest of the kids. Thanks to you,” she gestured to Jack some, then looked around the group, “and the others, of course, I really think this strike could end. My father wasn’t happy when I went back inside the other day. He was just… pacing around, muttering to himself. You guys have to be careful, but I think I can come up with something…” There was another pause, the newsies now looking at Katherine with piqued interest. The smile on her face was mischievous. “Okay, I already did.”  


With that, she grabbed a paper from the stack she was holding in her arms. The boys moved closer, narrowing their eyes as they read: _THE NEWSIES BANNER_. Jack looked at her curiously, his brows knitted together. Guess she had a few tricks up her sleeve.  
“How the hell did you make this?” He asked, Katherine putting her hand on her hip proudly.  


“There’s a printing press down in the cellar. I had a friend of mine help me get it working, his name’s Darcy,” she spoke, watching Jack snatch a paper from her hands and examining it. His eyes met hers at one point as he pointed to the print.  


“These are–”  


“Your words, _and_ drawing. Well, your words with a little more ‘umph’, because you said a lot and I needed to get to the point.” Katherine giggled, especially at the offended scoff that came from Jack. “With this, you could probably get even more people on board with your strike, and since it isn’t just about the newsies…”  
Her words trailed off and her eyes fell to the boys, prompting them to finish the statement for themselves.  


“We could give them to all the working kids under twenty one and get them t’join… Katherine, this is _genius_ ,” Davey said as he took a paper for himself, Katherine beaming.  


“Thanks, Davey. Let’s get these circulating then, huh? And maybe if my dad sees you, he’ll think you’re hawking his papers and let his guard down,” she tried, Jack looking at the rest of the newsies. He held up the paper for everyone else to see.  


“Well, boys! Let’s go!” He shouted, and off they went, bolting back into the Lodge House in search of their caps and satchels. Jack followed, yelling directions and for everyone to hurry up, before they returned, bright eyed and eager in front of Katherine. David and Jack helped each other separate the papers, giving stacks out to the boys with Katherine’s aid. Once they were distributed, Jack stood atop the front steps to the Lodge House, waving his hands to catch everyone’s attention.  


“Aye! You heard Katherine! Any kid you see out there gets a pape! We gotta get the news out fellas! Let’s go!” He announced, and just like that, it was as if the morning bell had rung. Boys scattered, going to their usual selling areas to hand out papers. Jack went with David, hitting the streets eagerly. For once, David wasn't worried about having to make up headlines. No, all he had to do was find the kids, and give them their paper. Jack spotted the kid he’d seen Oscar and Morris picking on, hurrying on over to him. The little boy looked over at him, sweat beading along his forehead, and his eyes going wide with a star struck expression.  


“You’s Jack Kelly!” He exclaimed, David chuckling at the words. Of course he’d know Jack, he was popular amongst the kids, and evidently, the police in the town. David kept an eye out as he stood with Jack, who’d since crouched in front of the kid.  


“Yeah, that’s me. An’ this is my partner, Davey. Can you read?” He asked, the kid shaking his head. Davey stepped in then as he handed him a paper anyways.  


“This paper, we need your help. You, an’ all the kids in this state, are going to help us. We don’t want you guys working like this. You shouldn’t have to. Here–” He said, taking a few papers and handing them to the boy. “Hand these out to any of your friends nearby, and if they can’t read either, just tell ‘em you’re gonna help the strike, and that they should too.” The boy looked between David and Jack, the latter of which nodding as the younger ran off, excited to help. Jack looked at David.  


“One down, hundreds to go.” They continued down the streets, handing out papers like they wer candy. The older kids were far easier to convince, given that none of them wanted to be at work for this long. They were as sick of it as most of the others. Jack had the time of his life with one pair, Dukes and Scuff as he learned. The shorter of the two, a boy with dark hair and an array of scratches and scrapes, was eager at the prospect of taking down Pulitzer. It seemed he took it literally, though, Scuff being the one to tone down his enthusiasm for a fight. Jack was curious as to where Scuff’s nickname came from. The girl didn’t exactly look like a fighter, or at least, she hid it far better than her counterpart. Her shoes were worn, far worse than any he’d seen. Jack figured that was the answer, and they said their goodbyes, easily recruiting the two for the strike.  


Hours had passed, but Jack, David, and the rest of the gang had finally finished handing out their material. If the excitement in the air was noticeable before, it had only grown once they’d all returned. Kids were shouting incessantly – the air rang with the sound, loud and clear. It was hard to tell for certain how things would end up. They kids of the streets went to sleep that night with a hope in their hearts of a new beginning.  


  


Days dragged on. One week passed since the confrontation with Pulitzer, and the man was not happy. He’d gotten his hands on one of the newsie’s papers, (thanks to Bunsen), and was practically blowing smoke out of his ears. They couldn’t win. He wouldn’t allow it. Words passed between he and Wiesel, about the boys, and how the paper even got out, but the latter was oblivious to what had gone on with the gang. The only thing that was certain, was how those kids were making progress. They had numbers, now. No more were they _just_ the newsies of Lower Manhattan. They were the newsies of New York, along with the shoe shiners, and factory workers, and everything else there could possibly be. Strength came in numbers, and Pulitzer hated to admit the fact that he feared losing their game. He was in charge. He could easily up the price even further, but there was no point. No one was selling papers. He barely could see victory in sight.  


Jack knew things were looking up. All around Newsies Square, boys and girls of all ages and all jobs had gathered in protest. Signs brazenly displaying _‘STRIKE’_ , or similar phrases to sell their point. David had shown up early, Les eagerly standing by his side. The older of the two moved through the crowds, listening to the indistinct chatter that came from them. Children were buzzing excitedly, quite a few smaller groups muttering about how they talked to Jack Kelly. David couldn’t help but smile. He let Les run off to join one group, before meeting up with Jack.  


“Look at what you did… Jack, these kids. They look up to you. That’s all they’ve been talkin’ about. They can’t believe they’re getting to meet you,” he said fondly, Jack shaking his head. He didn’t want to be the only reason for success. He turned towards David.  


“I ain’t the only one doin’ this, Davey. You’s the one who came up with the idea in the first place. You are the one who helped bring everythin’ together. You, an’ me, an’ the rest of the boys, an’ Katherine. We all did.” David looked back at him, a smile on his face that was almost brighter than the sun that beat down on them. It showed that he almost didn’t care whether they won or lost. He was just glad to have helped. Before Jack knew it, David’s arms were around him, Jack returning the hug with equal strength. “I’s happy you didn’t walk away that first day, an’ listened t’Les. Otherwise I don’t think we’d be here,” he whispered, and David couldn’t tell whether he was referencing them there in the crowd of strikers, or them in their relationship. Either way, his statement held truth. As they released one another, they noticed that the murmurs had died down, curious as to why. When they turned towards the crowds, they got their answer.  


There, amongst the crowd, stood Pulitzer, looking disgusted at the sight of all the children, most of whom were covered in sweat, dirt, soot, anything they’d picked up on the streets. Most of them were yelling in his face, Pulitzer sneering as he parted the crowds and made his way towards Jack. He wasn’t alone, either. Behind him stood Wiesel, looking just as bothered by the sea of kids as Pulitzer. Jack stood a bit straighter, David following his cue and staring straight at the two. Pulitzer spoke first.  


“Awful, what you’re doing. I couldn’t hardly get out of my office without being run down by these… miscreants,” he spoke slowly, Jack crossing his arms with a cocky sort of smirk.  


“Wake up an’ smell the new century, Pulitzer,” he hummed, spotting a familiar face in the crowd moving towards them.  


“If y’notice, we got you surrounded,” said none other than Spot, the Brooklyn newsies in his wake. They were just as loud as the rest, maybe even louder. Pulitzer looked down at him, unable to shake the sneer from his face. He truly looked disgusted, Jack couldn’t help but laugh. The older man shook his head, moving towards a vacant building with Wiesel.  


“Aye now why’s he here?” They heard Race ask from the crowd, Jack turning towards him and shrugging a little. He didn’t know. All he knew was that Pulitzer didn’t seem happy with their efforts, but it’s not like any of them cared. (That was the point after all.) Though, he couldn’t say that Pulitzer looked quite confident – his actions and frantic gesturing to Wiesel gave Jack some more hope. He turned as Spot hopped down from the steps, moving to stand next to Race, then left the two to talk on their own. Instead, he looked at David. The other didn’t speak up though. Jack was confused at first, before a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards, moving him towards some unseen destination. David wasn’t panicking, Jack though began to turn, his free hand already in a fist, before he saw that it was Wiesel who’d grabbed him, and that he was bringing him to Pulitzer. He yanked his arm away, making a note of fixing his sleeve before listening to Pulitzer.  


“What are you _doing_ ” He asked, Jack looking up at him.  


“Fixin’ my sleeve. Ain’t that allowed?” He retorted, the older pinching the bridge of his nose and speaking lower.  


“Not _that_. This. This… rally. What is this supposed to do? Scare me?”  


“You’s out here ain’t you? Gettin’ into the fray an’ what not? You knows you’s losin’, so why don’t we cut to the chase, huh? How’s about puttin’ the price back where it was? Then we’s’ll go back to work no problem,” he kept his arms crossed, getting close to Pulitzer as he sized him up. The man shook his head just barely, sighing. Jack narrowed his eyes.  


“I can’t put the price back where it was, no.”  


“Oh well why’s–”  


“Mr.Pulitzer, there’s–” Wiesel interrupted, his eyes widening some. Pulitzer glared at him and spoke.  


“ _What_?”  


We’ve got a visitor,” was his reply, the trio turning around slowly. There, stepping out of his carriage near the three, was the governor. David had, along with the rest of the kids, turned to watch what was going on. The only difference was that David followed him, going to stand near Jack who looked as starstruck as the kids had looking at him. The man cleared his throat, Pulitzer focused on him now.  


“Governor?”  


“Joseph, Joseph, _Joseph…_ ,” Governor Roosevelt shook his head as he spoke, his tongue leaving a sharp ‘tsk’ a few times at the end for emphasis of his disappointment. “What have you done now?”  


“Oh, well I’m sure once you hear my explanation–”  


“Actually, I’ve gotten my hands on this… _Newsies Banner_? And, well, I think I’ve got a thorough grasp on the situation. Thanks to your daughter and these children of course, complete with graphic illustration.” His eyes narrowed at Pulitzer, before turning to the two younger boys. “Now, which one of you is Mr.Kelly?” Neither of them moved, before David glanced down at Jack, nudging his arm. He came to his senses and stepped forward, clearing his throat.  


“Ah, me, Sir,” Jack said, his voice timid with awe.  


“How’re you doin’, son? I was told that we once shared a carriage ride together, hm?”  


“Oh, the pleasure’s mine Mr.Governor.” Roosevelt took his hand, shaking it firmly before turning back to Pulitzer. Jack stared at his hand for a moment as he returned to his spot next to David, muttering about how he shook the man’s hand as though David hadn’t just seen it all. The taller laughed, messing up Jack’s hair some before retracting his hand quickly.  


Before he knew it, he was alone with Pulitzer. Even David left to go back to the crowd, though at least he was a bit more reluctant. This was it. Jack squared his jaw, looking up at Pulitzer, who sighed once more.  


“I can not put the price back where it was, I am sorry.”  


Jack kicked at the ground some, a sort of defeated look coming over him as he nodded. “No, no I get it. You got a face t’keep ‘round here.”  


“Thank you–”  


“But I got constituents with a legitimate gripe,” he stated firmly, picking his head up as he looked at the man. Thank God he had David; tossing around big words all the time.  


“What if I told all the other publishers to decrease the raise by half? It’s a compromise we can all live with,” he retorted, eyes narrowing down at the boy that talked back to him. Who, at that point, looked like he had an idea. Never a good sign.  


“But… you eat our losses. Any pape we can’t sell you buy back, full price.” Pulitzer looked downright offended, scoffing at the notion.  


“That has _never_ been on the table! What’s to stop newsies from taking hundreds of papers that they can’t sell! My costs will explode!” Jack looked at him like he was near stupid, brows furrowed in exasperation.  


“No newsie is gonna break his back haulin’ ‘round papes he can’t sell. _But,_ if they can take a few more with no risk? Maybe they’s’ll sell those papers, an’ your profit will begin t’grow!” He gestured wildly, crossing his arms childishly as he kicked at the ground again. “It’s a compromise we an all live with…” Pulitzer looked at him, pensive, before he nodded once.  


“That’s not a bad head you’ve got on your shoulders, boy.” The man admitted quietly, Jack looking right back at him. There was a disbelief in his eyes and across his face. Without hesitation, he cocked an eyebrow.  


“So’s we got a deal?” He asked, spitting into his hand and sticking it out for Pulitzer to shake. The man recoiled some, shaking his head.  


“That’s _disgusting. _”  
__

__“That’s just business.” The confident grin only grew on Jack, his hand connecting with Pulitzer’s once the older man caved, spat in his hand, and shook on it. Jack felt a pressure leave his shoulders. The young man looked out at the crowd of shouting teens, meeting David’s gaze as he ran over to the steps leading into Newsie Square, climbing up some decaying statue as he went. Hundreds of pairs of eyes landed on him, Jack waving his free hand about.  
_ _

__“Newsies of New York!” He shouted, waiting for everyone to silence before his radiant grin only grew. “We won!” The exclamation insighted chaos. Sheer chaos. Kids were hugging one another, playfully shoving each other about. Jack hopped down from his ‘pedestal’, bolting over to David and wrapping him in a tight hug before he even knew what was going on. He couldn’t focus on the triumphant cheers of the kids around him, only on Jack, who was laughing happily and patting his back. Their eyes met, their thoughts mutual: they wanted to celebrate in their own way. Away from the prying gaze of others, and the cheers and shouts. Though, their link was cut short as Roosevelt spoke up once more. Apparently, he’d been speaking for a while, only now though did he really catch Jack’s attention. The sound of a whistle blew, and out came Crutchie. Jack’s eyes widened, a grin plastered to his face as he ran over to his friend. His _brother_.  
_ _

___“Crutchie!”_ He cried, along with most of the other boys of the Lodge House. The shorter boy, who asides from looking bedraggled, and a bit worn for weather, had an equally radiant grin on his freckled face, Jack hugging him tightly and messing up his hair even more.  
_ _

__“Hiya fellas! Miss me?” He asked, earning a chorus of laughs. The good times just kept coming; from a similar carriage came out the rest of the newsies who’d been taken during the initial riot that swept through the strikers. More enthusiastic reunions, until Jack caught a glimpse of Snyder. He began to turn away, grabbing Crutchie’s armin the process like he would take him with him this time around. Crutchie shook his head, telling him to look at the angered man. Finally, the officers came into view, Jack’s nerves fading and being easily replaced with a laugh. Jeers and snickering came from the rowdy group, all eyes on the defeated looking Snyder. Then, came the cops, (aside from the two holding him), to lead him away. Jack couldn’t figure out why.  
_ _

__“Jack, with your drawing in that paper, it came to my attention the ill practices going on right under my nose. They’ve provided an eloquent argument to shutting down the Refuge, and providing a full investigation into Mr. Snyder’s abusive practices,” Roosevelt said, ordering the officers to take him away. Crutchie wasn’t done, though. With a glint in his eyes, he turned towards the governor.  
_ _

__“Ah, ‘scuse me, your Highness, may I do the honors?” He asked, earning a smile and nod. He hobbled over to Snyder and the cops, taking the handcuffs from them before smacking them onto Snyder’s wrists eagerly. The man thrashed a little, grumbling under his breath before Crutchie jerked his thumb towards him. “Ain’t so tough now, _little man_!” He exclaimed, the newsies and everyone else laughing. As he was being led off, Crutchie hurried to catch up, removing his crutch from beneath his arm, and sending Snyder on his way with some choice words and a smack to the rear with his crutch.  
_ _

__No one could quite believe that the strike was over. When the chaos had died down, everyone looked to Jack as though asking what to do next. Only thing was, he looked just as lost. Luckily, Wiesel had moved back to his usual post, banging on the counter and setting up piles and piles of papers.  
_ _

__“Strike’s over! Papes for the newsies, line up boys!” He shouted, and just like that they all lined up – the entirety of the New York newsie body. Papers, papers, and more papers were bought, even more than usual, and off they went. The streets were alive with the sound of newsies. Jack was oddly at ease going back to work; this was what he was used to, after all. It meant he’d get to eat, and not have to worry about when. It meant the rest of the newsies got to eat, and might even get new clothes in the mix too. It meant that they’d _won._ He just couldn’t wait for the day to be over, though. He’d taken to selling a bit closer to Davey, claiming to be worried that there’d still be a few stragglers that were out for their heads. The work day slowed and slowed as the blazing afternoon gave way to a cool evening. Not cool, no. It was cold.  
_ _

__That was the first thing he’d noticed as he walked the streets to find David. The day had been so warm, too, yet the air was biting as ever. No one was really out anymore, save for the newsies, who were beginning to journey back to their own turfs, or back to the Lodge House. He was still in a haze, that laid over him like the damp summer air that afternoon. He’d led a strike. A strike that _won _. A strike that beat Joseph Pulitzer and every other major publishing company who’d tried to take them down. He couldn’t believe it. Snyder was gone, and in turn, the Refuge. Kids didn’t have to worry about being swept off the streets into the jail that was that hellhole.  
___ _

___Footsteps. He heard footsteps, and they were coming towards him. Then, a voice.  
_ _ _

___“Jackie! Just sold my last paper!”  
_ _ _

____Davey._  
_ _ _

__The taller boy hurried over, a smile forming as the pair showed empty satchels. Jack nudged him in the ribs, nodding.  
_ _

__“Look at you go, right back into things. I thought you’d have a hard time an’ all,” he teased, David rolling his eyes. Jack continued to speak. “So, how’s about we go back t’the Lodge House, or your place, either or. ‘Cause I say, we ended that strike in a most auspicious manner.” The words prompted a shove from David, Jack ending up laughing on the ground. “Alright, alright, calm down. How’s the Lodge House sound? I wanna see Crutchie,” he said, and off they went, David helping him up off the ground and through the streets to the building. Inside was chaos; something that never seemed to change. Everyone looked at the two, practically lunging at them to hug or to punch their arms. David looked lost with it all, but seemed to be enjoying himself. Jack hugged everyone back, yelling praise and anything else that came to mind. He spotted Crutchie, hugging him tightly once again.  
_ _

__“Kid, I am so sorry that I didn’t get y’out sooner… or didn’t go after you in the first place, I–”  
_ _

__“Jack, ‘s fine. I’s here now, an’ you’s here too. An’ we won, it don’t matter none.” Crutchie smiled up at Jack. “Oh, an’ my leg ain’t so bad t’day.” That got Jack to smile again, and a chuckle left him. The celebration went on for hours into the night, but not too long into them, Jack retired upstairs with David.  
_ _

__“I can’t believe ‘s over…”  
_ _

__“I know, it’s crazy.” David moved to sit beside Jack on the boy’s bed, swinging his feet some even though they touched the floor.  
_ _

__“Bet you’s is gonna go back t’school soon enough, all these papes gettin’ sold with no issue? You’s gonna help out your folks an’ off you’ll go,” Jack said suddenly, a hint of despair in his voice. David sat up a bit straighter, noticing that Jack wasn’t even looking at him at that point.  
_ _

__“Even when I go back I’m still gonna see you guys, it’s not like I’ll suddenly forget you all. I’ll visit. I’ll still live in the same place. There’s no reason to–” It took him a moment to realise why Jack was upset. He got up, moving towards the door. He ignored Jack’s apologies and the pleas for him to not leave as he locked the door, turning back around to face the now confused boy. Without another word he walked over quickly, taking Jack’s face in his hands and pressing their lips together. His dark hazel eyes fell shut, as did the blue ones that had been wide with surprise, and his thumbs brushed over his cheekbones. Jack’s arms wound around David’s neck, pulling him closer. He was still out of the bed, though, and the action left him at an uncomfortable angle. Toeing off his shoes, he pulled away, Jack copying him as the two moved to properly lay on the bed. Their movements were quick, and a little messy, but neither cared. David cupped Jack’s cheek once again and kissed him, his free hand moving to take off his hat and mess with his dark hair. Jack didn’t know when, but he ended up on his back, David above him and hardly taking the time to disconnect their lips. Jack kept his hands on the back of Davey’s neck, his fingers curled in the shorter hair. The moment their lips left each other’s, Jack leaned up, and went to work on the exposed skin of his neck. Both of their faces flushed a dark red, David having not expected the action, and Jack still surprised he’d done it. David tapped his shoulder, pushing him back down carefully, and while Jack thought he’d done something wrong, David was always one to prove him wrong.  
_ _

__There was a slight hesitation with the taller boy’s actions, but they had the same response regardless. He pressed light kisses along Jack’s jaw, beneath his chin, scattering the majority across his cheeks. Soft laughter passed his lips when David kissed the tip of his nose before pecking his lips. He was in love – his chest felt like it was blooming with the brightest flowers, warmed by the heat that spread through his body. Jack almost felt dizzy, lost in a fog of contentment. Things grew heated quickly. Jack’s hands gripped the fabric of Davey’s shirt where they could, the other leaving firmer kisses to the crook of his neck. Son of a–  
_ _

__A quiet whine escaped him when David’s hand pressed into the dip of his waist, the other carding through his messy hair. It left a gap in the continuity of their endeavours, David’s blush travelling down his neck as he pulled back to look down at Jack, who closed the gap once more to kiss him hurriedly. David’s turn to be confused came about when Jack pulled away entirely, but surprise covered it up quickly. He watched Jack’s deft fingers undo the buttons of his dark blue shirt, almost frantically, and toss it aside, leaving him in a paint stained undershirt. David couldn’t help but eye him; he wasn’t the most forward person, no, but he _was_ a teenager, and Jack was very attractive. It didn’t help that, thanks to him, his hair was sticking out in different directions, and his face was flushed, almost as bright as the paint on his shirt. David moved closer, sitting up now as he wrapped his arms around Jack’s middle, the latter running his hands through Davey’s tidy hair, properly messing it up. He tried to kiss Jack but the boy stopped him with a shake of his head, tugging on the waistcoat he wore. David looked down at it, before back at Jack, raising an eyebrow.  
_ _

__“You want me to take it off?” He asked, his voice a bit more heavy than he’d anticipated. Jack’s eager nodding earned a smile, and David went to work on unbuttoning it. When it was off though, he looked at his partner, a smug sort of look overcoming him as he took his time folding it, and setting it aside. The look on Jack’s face was worth it, especially considering that thanks to it, Jack took the liberty of moving things along, grabbing the thin tie around David’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. David reached a hand up to lace his fingers with Jack’s, then brought his other into his hair, twirling it around his fingers. He didn’t even intend to, but his grip tightened just a little, another small noise coming from Jack that left both of them blushing. An annoyed sort of groan passed David’s lips when he felt the straps of his suspenders fall down his arms, more or less getting in the way of things. He didn’t move away from Jack, instead just took them off one at a time, Jack moving as close as he could and balling his fists in David’s shirt. Soon enough the tie was coming off – Jack couldn’t help himself, really; fiddling with it the entire time they were close enough. A few times David tried swatting his hands down, but to no avail.  
_ _

__“Jackie, stop that,” he’d muttered against his lips, Jack just shaking his head a little and eventually getting it off of him and onto the floor beside the bed. David brought his hands back to Jack’s waist, thinking for a moment how _right_ it felt to hold him. He was warm, and eager, and everything was beautiful about him. David’s own chest felt like it was blooming with roses and peonies and a million other flowers. His hands stayed on his waist, brushing his fingers gently against Jack’s torso. He could tell that he had experience, but he doubted Jack had really done anything with emotion behind it. Something told him Jack just went with things as they came – it wasn’t hard to tell, and he wanted to change it. Jack put his heart into everything, and David wanted to return the favour. He pressed his forehead to Jack’s while one hand cupped his cheek, his thumb running across his slightly swollen lips (mostly to keep him from kissing him again; he wanted to savour the calm for a moment.) Jack’s eyes were darker, now, his pupils blown wide as he looked at David adoringly. A little desperate, too. He swallowed, letting David trace his features lightly as he crawled into his lap, arms wrapped around each other and hands in hair. Heavy ‘I love you’s passed between the two of them, their hearts beating in sync each time they caught each other’s gaze. The night was their cover – darkness hiding them from prying eyes, their bodies keeping each other warm when they eventually calmed down, the touching become less needy and more gentle. David was the last one awake, holding a sleeping Jack close to his chest, and leaving small kisses on his shoulder. Peace settled on his features, and David wished he could always see such a sight. That night, they dreamed of each other.  
_ _

__  
_ _

____

The warbling of birds outside of the window had each boy shifting in the bed. Jack turned onto his other side, pressing his face against David’s chest with a huff. David stirred, then pet Jack’s hair almost immediately and kissed his forehead. It was a few more minutes before they both really woke up. Jack looked up at Davey, moving up some to give him a light kiss, and as they pulled apart, they both moved off the bed to redress whatever had come off in the night. Jack pulled on his hat, scrunching his nose a little when David laughed at him.  


“Aye, wha’s so funny?” He asked through slurred words, narrowing his eyes. David took the hat off, Jack trying to take it back, before he was given a different one.  


“You took mine, Jackie. We’ve gotta be careful if this is gonna work, remember?” He teased, Jack taking off his hat and hitting David in the shoulder lightly as they walked out of the bedroom.  


“Shut up, Davey. We’ll make it work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this first work is done. Sorry that the chapter upload schedule has been so poor, I haven’t had steady WiFi in my house for 4+ weeks and while I can use my neighbors on my phone, I can’t use it on my laptop, ergo, it is very hard to type efficiently.  
> Stay tuned for the next work in this series, as well as the /multiple/ one shots and other fics I have just waiting idly in my drafts.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is my first work. Also, my first chapter, first notes, first... everything! Hopefully, you all enjoyed it! (I say, even though I highly doubt this’ll get many reads.)


End file.
